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TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

























































































































































































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“ FLY SENT UP MELLOW NOTES OF DISTRESS. 











TWO BOYS IN THE 
BLUE RIDGE 



BY 


W. GORDON PARKER 


AUTHOR OF 


“SIX YOUNG HUNTERS,” “GRANT BURTON, 
THE RUNAWAY,” AND “ RIVAL 
BOY SPORTSMEN ” 


With Thirty-two Illustrcitio?is 
by the Author 



BOSTON 


DANA ESTES & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


the library of 
CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Received 


JUN. 26 1901 


Copyright entry 


OL juL. 2 -(o, *9o! 

CLASS CL^XXc. N». 

frccjc 

COPY 3. 


Copyright , iqoi 
By Dana Estes & Co. 


All rights reserved 


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Colonial Press 

Electrotyped and Printed by C- H. Simonds &. Co. 
Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

A Busy Morning . 




PAGE 

I I 

II. 

An Incident in the Park . 




24 

III. 

Among the Tenements . 




36 

IV. 

A Friend in Need 




57 

V. 

Jasper Billings 




74 

VI. 

Jack Disappears . 




86 

VII. 

Aboard the Sallie Harkness 




1 10 

VIII. 

Friends and Foes . 




140 

IX. 

Harvey Gets a Clue . 




158 

X. 

Harvey Finds the Casket . 




183 

XI. 

Off for the Blue Ridge 




209 

XII. 

Dan Elwood at Home . 




229 

XIII. 

An Interrupted Repast 




250 

XIV. 

Life in the Woods 




265 

XV. 

Conclusion .... 




282 


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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

♦ 

PAGE 

“Fly sent up mellow notes of distress” Frontispiece 

“The line straightened up perceptibly” . . 19 

“‘Yes, I’m the agent,’ rejoined Jack” . . 53 

Edna 59 

Bessie 127 

“Jack ” 148 

Miss Vreeland 156 

“There sat Billings at a little round table” 170 

“‘I’ve got them! I’ve got them at last!’ he 

repeated” 207 

Fly 231 

Uncle Jim . . . 243 

Mink with Trout 246 

Dan’s Buck 255 

“ ‘ It’s a coon ! ’” 258 

Jack held up the rabbit 261 

“ Who was nipping and worrying him at every 

STEP ” 279 




TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


CHAPTER I. 


A BUSY MORNING 


HOUGH it was not yet nine o’clock, a long line 



1 of boys had formed itself against the friendly 
iron railing that ran by the side of the building occu- 
pied^ on the ground floor by Mackay and Company, 
real-estate brokers and appraisers. It was a four-story 
building, somewhat old-fashioned, but the upper part 
had been recently remodelled for mercantile pur- 
poses. A popular modiste had taken possession of 
the second floor, while business and professional men 
generally tenanted the other rooms. 

The boys were of all sorts and sizes, and would 
have averaged nearly sixteen years of age. They 
had come from all parts of the great city in answer 
to a modest advertisement in the morning Herald, 
and the undeniable air of stability about the exte- 


ii 



2 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


rior of the building seemed likely to hold them until 
the arrival of Mr. Gerald Mackay, who believed in 
personally engaging his clerks and office boys as 
occasion demanded. 

The first in line was a robust lad of one-hundred 
and fifty pounds, who didn’t look to be over fourteen 
years old. He wore a flat little derby, a checked 
suit, and a white sweater. His mother had got him 
out of bed early, and had given him ten cents for car 
fare, which he had promptly invested in peanuts, and, 
as the day was fine, had walked over from the West 
Side, arriving in time to get the first place, nearest 
the corner, where Joe Doyle, the janitor on the prem- 
ises, said the line would begin. He commented good- 
naturedly on each arrival, and though some of his 
remarks were rather pointed, it was impossible to 
take offence at them, he was so jovial. 

“This is out of my line entirely,” he confided 
to the first boy that joined him, as he munched 
away at his peanuts, “ I know I ain’t got a chance 
for this job, but ma was bound to have me try, so 
here I am, ready for the G. B.” 

“ What’s that ? ” 

“Why, the grand bounce — the sack — anything 
you call it,” he explained lowering his voice confi- 
dentially. “You see, pa, he’s coachman for Stanley 
Brooks, and makes his sixty per month ; but ma 
don’t want me to put on livery, and she’s glad I’m 
too fat now to go as flunky. She wants to get me in 


A BUSY MORNING 


13 


something respectable, and this is my first bid for 
fame.” 

The second boy, who seemed rather grave, smiled 
because the other’s good nature was so contagious. 
“ I’m sure I wish you good luck,” he said, frankly. 

“ Thanks,” returned the fat boy, nudging his com- 
panion. “Here comes a dead swell guy,” he con- 
tinued, speaking sotto voce, “don’t let him ahead 
of us.” 

The third arrival was indeed quite gorgeous in his 
light summer clothes and flashy waistcoat. He took 
his place without a word, filled and lighted a briar- 
root pipe, and then, with his hands in his trousers 
pockets, assumed a very disinterested and superior 
air that effectually silenced the first two until the 
fourth boy came along. 

“ I say, chappie, is it rainin’ in London ? ” de- 
manded the first boy,/ seeing that the newcomer’s 
trousers were turned up. 

“What’s it to you, fatty,” retorted the newcomer, 
sharply. “ Give us a few peanuts.” 

“Ah, I’ll give you nothin’,” was the unfriendly 
reply. “ I didn’t have no breakfast yet, myself. Get 
on to the ‘dago.’ I’ll bet he can’t say Hottentot 
backwards to save his life.” 

But the little Italian, fifth in line, paid no attention 
to the banter. His arms were too large for his body, 
as were his hands. He had been a bootblack at a 
corner saloon ever since he was old enough to wield 


14 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

a blacking-brush, and as a consequence the develop- 
ment of these members was quite noticeable. 

“ I suppose he thought he could steal a march on 
us with those tennis slippers,” continued the first 
speaker, dryly; “but it’s no use. He’s got to take 
his turn — -well, say, this is gettin’ to be a regu- 
lar congress of nations ; get on to ragtime and his 
friend from Baxter Street. Now, all jokin' aside, 
isn’t that a lovely span ? ” 

The cause of this last outburst was the simulta- 
neous arrival of a coloured youth, who rode up to the 
curb on a bicycle, and a very tall young fellow of evi- 
dent Hebrew extraction, who came striding along 
at a great pace, like a late passenger. The latter 
carried some kind of a credential in his hand, which 
the fat boy, guessing its contents, tried his best to 
have him read aloud. The other boys were mildly 
amused at the facetious remarks, but the Jew would 
neither join in the talk nor would he appear to hear 
it. This was a business venture with him, pure and 
simple. 

Two very small boys wearing short trousers came 
next. They arrived together, and were evidently 
great friends. As soon as they were in line the 
larger of the two, who was a pretty boy dressed in 
his Sunday best, produced a five-cent package of cig- 
arettes. He selected and rolled one between his 
fingers while the tiny chap behind him looked on 
impatiently. 


A BUSY MORNING 


15 


“Give us a puff, Terry,” he begged, when the 
other had struck a light. 

“ Take your time,” replied Terry, blowing the 
smoke through the hollow of the tall boy’s arm, 
which proceeding so annoyed the dignified Hebrew / 
that he sniffed, sneezed, and then roughly pushed 
the smoker backwards. At this the very little boy 
entered the game, shoving his chum against the tall 
lad with surprising celerity. This disturbed the whole 
line, and caused the tall lad to get very red in the 
face ; but still he said nothing. 

“Cheese it,” admonished Terry. “I ain’t lookin’ 
for a scrap in these clothes.” He passed over the 
cigarette as a peace-offering, and the very little fel- 
low, who might have been seven or twice seven, he 
was so small and wrinkled, put it between his lips 
and began to inhale the smoke, which he presently 
exhaled from his mouth and nose in almost a steady 
stream. His complexion was sallow, and his fingers 
were stained with the poisonous nicotine. The clerks 
must have detected the odour in the office, for pres- 
ently Joe Doyle tapped on the wire screen with the 
handle of a feather duster, saying as he did so, — 

“You boys’ll have to stop your smokin’ — it ain’t 
allowed.” 

“Whose smokin’ ?” demanded the little boy, sur- 
reptitiously pinching out the light. 

“ You are. Don’t you think I can see ? ” 

“ You’re — ” 


1 6 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

“ Never mind,” concluded Joe, sharply, with a 
final flurry of the duster. 

“ Hello, red ! ” called the irrepressible first arrival, 
as a lad with the reddest hair you ever saw crossed 
Madison Avenue and stood contemplating the long 
line as if reluctant to take his place at the farther 
end. 

“Why, hello, fatty,” retorted the other, cordially. 
“Say, I’m glad I didn’t get that job last week — ten 
hours a day, and only four per week ! not on your 
tintype ! ” He raised himself on his toes and looked 
over the boys’ heads through one of the side windows. 
“But this looks on the level, and Friday’s my lucky 
day. Move up, fatty, and let me in,” he coaxed, 
prodding his friend with a newspaper. 

“ Do you take me for a bead on a string ? ” de- 
manded fatty, nonplussed at the mere suggestion. 
“There’s plenty of room on the other end,” he con- 
cluded, pointing significantly. 

Before he could reach the end of the line, how- 
ever, a very lean and dejected-looking youth had 
taken the tenth position, and as a consequence the 
red-haired lad had to be content with the place be- 
hind him. It was lucky that he accepted this at 
once, for other boys were coming from all directions, 
while Mr. Mackay’s arrival was presently announced 
by a sharp clatter and slide of hoofs on the asphalt 
pavement. A brougham door was opened almost at 
once, and a gentleman, past middle age, stepped out 


A BUSY MORNING 


I 7 


and closed the door with precision behind him, at 
which the line straightened up perceptibly. The 
gentleman seemed rather surprised as his glance 
fell on the long string of hopeful lads, but he raised 
his paper in such a cheery salute a moment after 
that the boys were quite favourably impressed. 

Descending the two brownstone steps, he entered 
the office, where the clerks were already at work 
and a typewriter was sending forth its metallic 
jingle. 

“My dear Forbes,” said he, soberly, “have you 
advertised for a brigade ? ” 

“Why, no, sir,” replied Mr. Forbes, who seemed a 
very exact man. “ Here is a copy of the ‘ad.’ ” 

Mr. Mackay reached for the paper, and, catching 
sight of the blue pencil marks, read between them as 
follows : 

“ Wanted : Bright boy in real estate office ; must write well 
and have best of references ; $3 to start. Apply 500 Madison 
Avenue.” 

“That certainly covers the ground,” said he, draw- 
ing off his gloves. “But what an array of young 
hopefuls ! Well, have them in, Doyle, three at a 
time.” 

He entered his small private office, unlocked his 
desk, and pushed back the roll-top. Before he had 
got fairly seated, the first three lads were ushered in 
with proper ceremony by the janitor. The boys 


1 8 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

drew up before the oak rail, their hats in their hands, 
and pretended to appear very much at home. After 
one comprehensive glance the broker addressed him- 
self to the stout boy, who seemed to have left his 
smile and some of his self-possession on the outside 
of the building. 

“ What’s your name, young man ? ” 

“ It’s Timmy — Timothy Titus, sir.” 

“ How old are you, Timothy ? ” 

“ I’ll be fifteen next birthday, sir.” 

“ Do you live with your parents ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ I’ll take your address, Timothy, in case I decide 
to give you a trial. Good morning.” 

Timothy appeared somewhat undecided for a mo- 
ment, then turned toward the door and passed out 
with a feeling that his “ first bid for fame ” had fallen 
short. 

Mr. Mackay gave his attention to the second boy, 
who was neatly clad in a black serge coat and vest 
and dark gray trousers. 

“ Your name ? ” 

“John Lawrence Benham,” replied the lad. 

“ Are you a stranger to business ? ” 

“Yes, sir. I was graduated from grammar school 
in July.” 

“ What is your age ? ” 

“Sixteen, sir.” 

“ You live with your parents ? ” 



“THE LINE STRAIGHTEN-’ ED UP PERCEPTIBLY. 



















A BUSY MORNING 


21 


“I live with my mother and sister; my father is 
dead.” 

“ The address ? ” 

“ Two hundred and four East Fifty-third Street,” 
answered the boy, passing out as Mr. Mackay began 
to question the third aspirant in a wholly different 
manner. 

“ Didn’t I see you smoking a pipe as I left my 
carriage ? ” 

“You might have,” replied the youth, somewhat 
taken aback by this unexpected move. 

“ But did I ? ” persisted the questioner, removing 
his eyeglasses and looking up from under his bushy 
brows. 

“ I think you did, sir.” 

“ I am quite sure of it. I do not employ office 
boys who smoke, and I don’t like evasive answers. 
Good morning.” 

“But I have the best references in the — ” 

“They will not be required,” replied the broker, 
suavely. “Doyle, admit the next three.” 

And so the nobby and superior youth, very red, 
and with feelings much ruffled, passed out as the 
second trio marched in. Mr. Mackay received these 
boys with the same grave courtesy, giving the little 
Italian a few words of advice and encouragement 
concerning his studies at the night schools, and 
taking the coloured lad’s address and references, as 
though his chances were as good as any other’s. 


22 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


But when the third trio was shown in, Mr. Mackay 
put down his pencil and stood upon his feet. The 
jingle of the typewriter ceased also, and several 
clerks, who had been busy at the books, paused in 
their work to get a good look at the tall Hebrew 
and the little boys. 

“ Will you tell me your name, young man ? ” began 
the broker, addressing the first in line. 

“ It’s Aaron Goldenberg, and here’s my diploma 
from the public school,” replied the youth, speaking 
with the familiar Hebrew accent, and thrusting the 
paper at the astonished gentleman, who, after unroll- 
ing it, glanced at the contents with due solemnity. 

“ That’s very creditable, Aaron, I’m sure. I will 
take your name and address in case I decide to 
employ you.” Having done so, he briefly questioned 
the next, finally turning to the very little boy, whose 
head just came above the railing. “And what might 
your name be?” continued the broker, genially. 

“It might be Jack Frost, Buffalo Bill, or Kriss 
Kringle, but it isn’t ; its Willie Hotimer.” 

“ And your age, Willie ? ” 

“ Goin’ on thirteen.” 

“That will do,” concluded Mr. Mackay, as the 
next trio appeared. “ How many more are outside, 
Doyle ? ” 

“A whole line, sir, and more a-comin’.” 

“ Well, hurry them along, or we won’t get through 
by noon.” 


A BUSY MORNING 


23 


The good-natured janitor obeyed his instructions, 
hustling boys in and out until nearly twelve o’clock, 
at which hour Mr. Gerald Mackay had interviewed 
no less than thirty-seven lads, so keen is the compe- 
tition for any vacancy in the great American metrop- 
olis. It had been a busy morning, and the astute 
business man found it very hard to come to a deci- 
sion, for at least a dozen of the lads had seemed to 
him equally promising. He finally put down the 
long list, and called the office stenographer. 

‘‘Miss Wilson,” said he, “write a letter to John 
L. Benham, 204 East Fifty-third Street. Say that 
we have decided to employ him in our office, and 
tell him to report to Mr. Forbes Monday morning 
at half-past eight.” 


CHAPTER II. 


AN INCIDENT IN THE PARK 

HEN John Benham left the offices 
of Mackay and Company, he walked 
up Madison Avenue, turning to the 
left at Fifty-ninth Street. He in- 
tended crossing the park obliquely, 
and coming out at the Seventy- 
second Street entrance on the West 
Side. A fashionable Columbus Ave- 
nue florist had advertised for a 
junior clerk, and Jack, who har- 
boured no false pride, had decided 
early in the day to have a try for 
this place also. 

He walked briskly through Fifty- 
ninth Street, but fast as he walked he could not leave 
the events of the last hour behind him. His thoughts 
continually reverted to the real estate office, and he 
was obliged to admit that his chances of securing the 
position were indeed slight ; for Jack was a sensible 
boy, and realised that Mr. Mackay would have the 
24 



AN INCIDENT IN THE PARK 


25 


choice of many clever and experienced lads. It was 
this very thought that caused him to quicken his pace 
as he approached the plaza, which contained an un- 
usual number of gorgeous equipages for late Septem- 
ber. They rolled into the park to the dull clatter of 
highly polished hoofs and jingling of silver chains in 
almost a steady stream, the high-stepping hackneys 
prancing prettily. 

Jack paused, and looked up at the great towering 
hostelries, and across at the superb residence of a 
multi-millionaire, which was enclosed by a splendid 
fence of wrought iron. The gate was a masterpiece 
of the iron-worker’s art, compelling the lad’s admira- 
tion. He had seen these things many times before, 
but now that he had decided of his own accord to 
take up a business career, their costly magnificence 
disturbed him in a way he could not explain. “ Three 
dollars a week ! ” he soliloquised, with a frown that 
was something of a stranger to him. “ That would 
hardly pay for a fellow’s meals.” Then he crossed 
Fifth Avenue, and entered the park, determined to 
lose no time in reaching the florist’s. 

As Jack swung along the path toward the men- 
agerie, he wondered what his mother would say when 
he told her that he had decided not to enter the 
high school on the following Monday. This decision 
had cost him considerable, for he had several chums 
who had graduated in July with him, and who meant 
to take the high school course. Jack would have 


26 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


liked to do so, too, but good and sufficient reasons 
caused him to decide otherwise. One very good 
reason was the question of money. 

When Jack’s father, who had been a civil engineer, 
died ten years before the beginning of this story, he 
left a very modest income, which Mrs. Benham had 
augmented in several ways : first by sewing, then by 
dressmaking, and later, by editing the woman’s page 
of one of the great dailies, which position she still 
held. In this way she had been able to keep her 
children at school, and, as much of her work was 
done at home, it was quite congenial. While still 
very young, Jack understood the great grief that had 
come to his mother, and she never forgot his early 
efforts to assist her by carrying up little pails of coal 
and bundles of wood, as his father had done so often 
before him. She had taken him to the public school, 
he remembered, and had for so many years overseen 
his studies ; had instructed him at night, no matter 
how tired she was, and had sympathised with him as 
only a fond mother can. And what was best of all, 
she had kept him right. He had never done any of 
the foolish things that many boys find amusement in, 
and he was glad of it, and thanked her from the 
bottom of his heart. In turn she was proud of her 
handsome boy, whose honest face reflected the wisdom 
of her training and care. 

It was but a short walk to the elk, and Jack, who 
was fond of animals of all kinds, stopped a moment 


AN INCIDENT fN THE PARK 


27 


to have a look at the restless, discontented cap- 
tives. But he soon passed on, taking a path to the 
left that led up to the mall, which was alive with 
groups of children intent on feeding the friendly gray 
squirrels. A number of older people stopped to 
watch a squirrel that had become blind through old 
age, and very interesting did they find him ; for the 
trusting animal would run along the turf and jump up 
on the benches, and, guided by the tapping of the 
nut, would come straight to the child and take it 
from the outstretched hand. Then away he would 
frisk, bury the nut under the turf, and return for 
another. 

Jack kept on his way, descending the long flight 
of steps to the lake, and again turning to the left. 
He soon came out at Seventy-second Street, through 
which he passed to Columbus Avenue. Outside the 
florist’s he found a group of impatient lads. He 
decided to await his turn, but it was twelve o’clock 
before he was admitted. After giving his name and 
address to the clerk in charge, he retraced his steps, 
again entering the park, choosing another route to 
the mall, and not approaching the lake. Skirting the 
edge of the common, he soon came to the middle 
drive, which was pretty well deserted at this hour. 
A French maid and two small children were enjoy- 
ing a noonday siesta close to the drive, and Jack 
noticed that a pretty basket phaeton, drawn by a 
graceful black horse, was slowly approaching from 


28 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


the lake. The horse seemed inclined to shy at the 
large red shade of the perambulator, which the maid 
had drawn in under the elm-tree. 

There were two young girls in the vehicle, while a 
smart -looking young groom sat up behind on a skel- 
eton seat. When the horse came abreast of the 
perambulator, he broke from his nervous trot and 
began to “ rock ” in a threatening sort of way. The 
young girl driving spoke to the groom, who had 
already begun to leave his seat with a view to taking 
the horse by the head. At the same moment a 
sharp gust of wind turned the red shade inside out 
and upset the light baby-carriage. The French 
maid screamed as the horse broke into a gallop, and 
the groom went out behind, turning almost a com- 
plete somersault. The frightened beast took the 
bit in his teeth and broke into a full run. Almost 
at once there was a shrill whistling from the mall, 
where Jack saw a gray-coated policeman standing on 
one of the benches and waving his arms frantically. 
The boy ran out on the driveway and waved his 
arms, but the horse bore down upon him at such 
terrific speed that he dodged back again to save his 
life. 

During these brief seconds the girls made no 
attempt to break the mad gallop, perhaps scarcely 
realising what was happening ; but as soon as the 
vehicle had passed Jack, each took a rein and put 
her frail strength against the brute’s swift rush. 


AN INCIDENT IN THE PARK 


2 9 


The only noticeable effect was in the increased 
speed of the maddened animal. And now several 
park employes, who had run out together and were 
busy waving their rakes in plain sight of the onrush- 
ing horse, were nearly the means of precipitating a 
tragedy ; for, as they continued to blow their whistles 
and swing their long tools, they held their ground, 
the result being that the horse swerved and bolted 
just before entering the short stretch of road leading 
to the plaza. 

The animal plunged between two trees, the lower 
branches brushing his forelock and just missing the 
girls’ heads. Again the horse swerved, the phaeton 
went up on two wheels and threatened to go over. 
But it righted itself again as the horse tore out on 
the wide stretch of common, running more swiftly 
still as he felt the soft turf under him. By this 
time a good-sized crowd had rushed up, and as the 
welcome clatter of a mounted policeman’s horse was 
heard coming up the drive from the lake, there was 
a faint cheer. 

The officer rode a handsome bay horse, which was 
striding freely. He took in the situation at a glance, 
turning his steed toward the circling runaway. Then 
there was a very pretty race. Slowly and surely 
the bay gained on the black until they were nearly 
neck and neck. “ Go it, officer ! ” shouted Jack, 
waving his hat to the distant horseman. “ Hurrah ! ” 
cried another, as the gallant bay began to crowd the 


30 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


black at every stride. They had turned at the far 
side of the common, and were now approaching the 
driveway again. As the officer leaned well over to 
take the black by the head, his saddle was seen to 
slip, and to the horror of the onlookers he went down 
in a heap, the off wheels of the phaeton narrowly 
missing his body. On came the black alone, for the 
well-trained bay had stopped at his master’s shout. 

“ Spread out, boys, and keep him on the green,” 
commanded the policeman who had first waved to 
Jack from the mall. The excited spectators did as 
directed, but the crazy animal seemed bent on regain- 
ing the road to the stable. It is true that he short- 
ened his stride as the line obstructing his path failed 
to break at once, and this very change in pace gave 
Jack Benham the chance few men would have cared 
to accept. 

He cannot tell you to this day exactly how it hap- 
pened, for, as the animal plunged toward the drive- 
way as the line parted in the centre, he rushed at the 
horse’s head and leaped upward. For the next few 
seconds he thought his arms would surely be pulled 
from their sockets, so violent was the tossing of the 
animal’s head. Then came the inevitable jar and vio- 
lent commotion as the vehicle left the turf and struck 
the drive. Again the wheels went up, but as the road 
was smooth the phaeton slid around without going 
over. Once straightened out, the thoroughbred set- 
tled again into his mad stride, Jack meanwhile getting 


AN INCIDENT IN THE PARK 


31 


one leg part way over the animal’s back, and, with 
his left hand clutching the reins and his right 
buried in a thick mane, held on for dear life. For 
a few brief moments earth and sky seemed to be 
sliding back, then the frightful noise and tumult 
gradually lessened. The lad could feel the stride 
weakening, which gave him fresh courage to put 
all possible weight on head and neck. Slower and 
slower sounded the hoof-beats, faster and faster came 
the animal’s laboured breathing. Finally the horse 
stumbled, recovered himself, and came to a stop with 
a peculiar swaying motion. Jack let himself down at 
once, taking the horse by the head. A policeman 
and a park labourer were the first to come up, the 
former gallantly assisting the hysterical girls to the 
ground. The labourer startled Jack by a sounding 
slap on the back, saying with a right good-will as he 
extended his hand, “That was moighty well done, 
son, and there’s my hand on’t. Ah, ’tis a shame, so 
it is.” 

Jack understood the last words, for the girls were 
now having a good cry, and the big policeman had 
gathered them both under his long arms in a fatherly 
sort of way that was good to see. At this moment 
the unfortunate groom limped into the crowd, for he 
had twisted his ankle in the fall. 

“ The saints be praised ! you’re not hurt, Miss 
Edna ! ” he cried, addressing the taller girl with much 
feeling. 


32 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“ No, we’re all right, Donald,” answered the girl, 
faintly. “How is the poor policeman who fell from 
his horse ? ” 

“He’s all right, too, miss,” replied somebody in 
the crowd. “ Here he comes a-limpin’ up, an’ leadin’ 
his hoss.” 

“ Then I want to thank you for this brave deed,” 
continued the girl, leaving the policeman’s side and 
directly addressing Jack. 

“Pshaw, that’s nothing,” returned Jack, lightly, 
seeing that the girl wanted to say something more, 
but could not. She was a pretty girl, with dark eyes 
and a wealth of dark hair, and Jack felt mighty sorry 
for her. Somebody handed him his hat, which had 
fared badly at some stage of the race, and he pre- 
tended to be busily engaged in making it more 
presentable. Their further conversation was inter- 
rupted by the officers, who began to take the names 
of all concerned. 

Jack slipped away as soon as possible, taking the 
path across the mall. Pie saw the groom driving off 
alone, and was glad that the girls had elected to walk, 
for he hadn’t much faith in the handsome black, how- 
ever exhausted, and felt that they were doing the 
sensible thing. At a Park Avenue shop he had his 
boots blacked and his clothes brushed, after which he 
started home, feeling a trifle sore after his adventure, 
but otherwise in the best of spirits. 

It was not much after one o’clock when he reached 


AN INCIDENT IN THE PARK 33 

Fifty-third Street. He let himself in the main hall, 
climbed one flight of stairs, and unlocked the door to 
his mother’s apartment. He sniffed hungrily at the 
odour of broiled chops and fried potatoes, which his 
sister Daisy had prepared half an hour before, and 
which she had kept warm by the range. 

“ Hello, little one,” said Jack, throwing off his 
coat and rolling up his sleeves preparatory to much 
needed ablutions. “ Where’s mommy ? ” 

“ Oh, she went down to the office, and told me to 
get luncheon. I ? ve got lamb chops and French fried 
potatoes, Jack ; but you’re late. I don’t know how 
good they’ll be now.” 

“They’ll be good enough,” said Jack, cheerfully. 
“And I’m as hungry as a hunter.” 

“Well, it’s all ready,” said Daisy, setting the 
dishes on the table. 

Jack took his seat while Daisy poured the tea. 
It was a jolly repast, and though Jack wanted to tell 
his sister all about the incident in the park, he some- 
how felt that it would please his mother to wait until 
her return. So he said nothing, and, after helping 
Daisy with the dishes, went out to get the afternoon 
papers. In answer to one advertisement for an 
office boy he took the Elevated to Harlem, returning 
by foot. It was nearly dusk as he entered the apart- 
ment-house and glanced at the letter-box. There he 
found the communication from Mackay and Com- 
pany, which he opened and read before reaching his 


34 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


own door. He found his mother resting in the twi- 
light after the day’s work, and going up to her, put 
his arm around her neck and gave her a hearty 
kiss. 

“Now, mommy,” he began, drawing his chair close 
to hers, “I’ve got a lot to tell you.” As he had 
never kept any secrets from her, she was not sur- 
prised. But as he modestly told of his good luck in 
stopping the runaway, she grew very white, and when 
he had finished she said, simply, — 

“John, dear, you mustn’t take such risks.” 

But he could see that she was proud of him, and 
it pleased him more than Daisy’s rapturous words. 
So he went on and told of his calls at Mackay and 
Company’s, at the florist’s, and at the upholstery house 
in Harlem, ending by displaying the letter from the 
brokers. 

“But I thought you were going to the high 
school this fall,” began Mrs. Benham, putting her 
hand on Jack’s shoulder and looking long into his 
eyes, as though searching for her. answer there. 

“Now I’ll tell you why I’ve given that up,” said 
Jack, in a softer voice. “ When Daisy and I came 
home from the mountains last week, I could see what 
a long, hard summer it had been for you, mommy. 
And now that I’m big and strong, I want to help you. 
You’ve been so good and kind all these years that it 
doesn’t seem right to let it go on any longer. So I 
made up my mind to strike out at once, and this 


AN INCIDENT IN THE PARK 


35 


letter crowns my lucky day. I know you’ll be will- 
ing, mother dear.” 

But Mrs. Benham didn’t answer at once. She rose 
and went to the window that looked out on the tiny 
yards and brick walls. Jack and Daisy got up and 
stood beside her, and she put her arms about them. 

“ I never thought I’d have a business man in the 
family so soon, Jack,” she said. “ I hope you will 
like your place, my boy.” 

“I’m sure I shall,” said Jack, delighted at the 
quick decision. “Why, a fellow couldn’t help get- 
ting on in an office like that.” 

Had Jack foreseen the mysterious adventure that 
was to befall him before he had been with Mackay 
and Company six weeks, it is probable that he would 
have declined the position without delay. But as the " 
events leading up to it were of some importance, and 
had an indirect bearing on the result, I must take a 
fresh chapter to describe them. 



CHAPTER III. 


AMONG THE TENEMENTS 



ACK was up bright and early 
the following Monday 
morning. Having dressed 
himself with his usual care, 
he sat down to breakfast 
feeling that his entrance 
into the great world of 
business was very close at 
hand. He was unusually 
thoughtful, drinking his 
coffee and swallowing 
a roll without a word. 
Daisy curled herself up 
on the lounge, and 
watched him a little 
sadly, for she missed his cheery words and lively 
ways ; and it seemed as if this big brother had sud- 
denly left his boyhood somewhere behind him, he 
looked so grave and solemn. In a vague way she 
felt that she had lost her jolly playmate, and that the 
36 


AMONG THE TENEMENTS 37 

Jack of the future would be different from the Jack 
of the past. 

“ Play us a tune, Jack,” she begged, taking up his 
banjo, and attempting to tune it. 

“With pleasure, little one,” he answered, readily, 
seating himself by her side. He soon had the strings 
in tune and going merrily, but he didn’t sing ; and 
after one or two lively airs put the instrument down 
and took up his hat. 

“ Good-bye, mommy,” he said, glancing at the 
clock. “ It’s nearly eight, and I’ve just got time to 
walk down to the office.” Daisy smiled at the words, 
they seemed so strange, but Mrs. Benham was very 
serious. She went to her bedroom, presently return- 
ing with a watch and chain that Jack remembered 
having seen his father wear years ago. She put them 
into his hand, saying, softly, as she did so : 

“You will need these now, John.” 

“Thank you, mother,” he said, thoughtfully slip- 
ping the watch into his vest pocket and soberly 
adjusting the chain. “ Now I must go. There’s a 
kiss for good luck,” he added, as they reached the 
door. He bent over and kissed his sister, too, then 
went down the stairs, two steps at a time. “Good- 
bye, Jack,” he heard Daisy say as he reached the 
lower hall, and the words sent him smiling out into 
the street. Glancing at a large jeweller’s clock on 
Third Avenue, he saw that it was three minutes past 
eight, and therefore started off briskly for the office, 


38 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

arriving fifteen minutes later. Joe Doyle, who had 
just finished his dusting, seemed ready to welcome 
Jack, whom he remembered from the previous 
Friday. 

“So you got the job, hey?” began Joe, with an 
approving glance at the trim figure before him. 
“ Well, that was a lovely lot of lads, I don’t think. 
Ever been in business before ? ” 

Jack replied in the negative. 

“ That’s one reason why you got the job, I guess,” 
explained Joe. “Mr. Mackay, he’s very particular 
about his boys, and Mr. Forbes — you’ll like Mr. 
Forbes — he likes a boy right out of school that 
don’t pretend to know more than Mr. Forbes — 
see ? ” 

“I see,” said Jack, glad to take advantage of Joe’s 
confidential mood. “Whose place am I taking?” 

“ llarvey Tallant’s. He’s been raised, and is now 
one of the sure-enough collectors. Mr. McPherson’s 
the other. You’ll have to get the mail after this. 
Mr. Tallant’ll bring it up this mornin’. Here he 
comes now,” concluded Joe, glancing down the 
avenue. 

A young fellow of perhaps twenty presently ap- 
peared. He was of medium height, and was neatly 
clad. His 'hair was yellow and curly, his eyes dark 
brown, — altogether a handsome youth, with a hail- 
fellow-well-met air about him that appealed to Jack 
very strongly. He tossed the large bundle of mail 


AMONG THE TENEMENTS 39 

on Mr. Forbes’s desk, after which he entered a small 
closet and put away his hat. 

“This is the new office boy,” began the janitor, 
who felt that his new acquaintance should be prop- 
erly introduced. 

“ Glad to meet you,” said Tallant, cordially extend- 
ing his hand. “My name’s Tallant — Harvey Tal- 
lant. Joe didn’t tell me yours.” 

“John Benham,” said Jack, simply. 

“ John Benham ! I’ll bet they call you Jack, and 
the Jacks are all good boys. Mr. Forbes told me 
about you. Just come behind here, and hang up 
your hat in this closet. Hereafter you’ll have to 
get the mail every morning at about eight-fifteen. 
I’ll introduce you at the post-office to-day, and give 
you the keys. Tie the mail up with a string at the 
post-office, and bring it up here like this. All mail 
for Mackay and Company is left on this desk, which 
is Mr. Forbes’s. He’s Mr. Mackay’ s right-hand man, 
and collects the big rents. He’s all right, but a great 
stickler for order. Never leave a stray pencil about 
on his desk, or you’ll wish you hadn’t been born.” 

“ I’ll try to remember,” said Jack, wondering if 
Harvey Tallant wasn’t something of a joker. 

“You’d better,” advised Tallant, picking up the 
bundle and breaking the string. “ Now, go over the 
mail with me : ‘ Mackay and Co.-,’ ‘ Mackay and Co.,’ 
‘ Mr. Irving Johnson ; ’ that’s for the bookkeeper, and 
goes on that high desk. * Mr. Gerald Mackay.’ Put 


40 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


that on the top of that roll-top, there. ‘ Mackay and 
Co.,’ ‘ Mackay and Co.,’ ‘ Col. Henry T. Vreeland.’ 
He owns about every building Mr. Mackay manages, 
and lives up on Fifth Avenue. You’ll have to go 
up there on errands once or twice a week, so put 
that with Mr. Mackay ’s personal mail.” Jack did 
as directed, finishing the mail with Tallant’s assist- 
ance a few moments later. 

“ So far, so good,” continued Tallant, introducing 
Jack to a large safe at the farther end of the office. 
“ We call this * Old Utility.’ It isn’t meant for money, 
but just to keep the office books that the clerks have 
got to have as soon as they get here. This large 
one is the cash-book, and belongs on that little desk 
by Mr. Forbes’s chair. These small black books are 
ledgers, containing all the houses Mr. Mackay is 
agent for. Each tenant’s account is here, and you 
will find the street and number of the buildings on 
the outside cover.” 

“But why do you have so many books ? ” asked 
Jack. 

“ Because, if the houses and accounts were all in 
one or two big books, each collector would have to 
wait until the other had finished before he could 
make up the book for his route. Then, say a tenant 
should drop in and want to pay his rent, we should 
all have to wait while the bookkeeper looked up the 
account and wrote a receipt. The small books are 
much handier.” 


AMONG THE TENEMENTS 


41 


“ I see,” said Jack, arranging the little ledgers as 
Tallant directed. “ What next ? ” 

“ Each clerk has one of these pigeon holes,” con- 
tinued Tallant, “ where he keeps all his memorandums. 
See, this is Johnson’s, this is Miss Wilson’s, and that’s 
McPherson’s. You take this one. Write your name 
on a piece of paper and paste it in here. Whenever 
you come in after an errand, have a look through 
your papers, because Mr. Mackay or Mr. Forbes will 
be leaving orders for you right along. You can also 
have this drawer. Paste your name on the outside 
as McPherson and I have done, and on the outside of 
that tin box. That’s for money. You will be sent 
out to make collections off and on, and that box is 
for the whole amount you have collected through the 
day, which Mr. Forbes receives at night. For in- 
stance, if you have collected thirty-six dollars and 
fifty cents, you write that sum on a slip of paper, 
with the date and your initials, and place it in the 
box when you enter the amounts and tenants’ names 
in the cash-book, always in the right-hand column, 
entering car fare and any sums you have paid out 
during the day in the left-hand column. If no mis- 
takes are made, the cash is bound to balance. I will 
show you how to make up your book later, and ex- 
plain more about the cash-book. Here comes Mr. 
Forbes,” he concluded, as that gentleman was seen 
approaching the office door. 

“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Mr. Forbes, as 


42 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


though through force of habit. “This is the new 
boy, I take it ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. I got your letter, and Mr. Tallant has 
been giving me a few pointers,” said Jack, who felt 
grateful for the useful hints he had received. 

“That’s right, that’s right,” replied Mr. Forbes, 
glancing rapidly over the mail. “ Where are you 
working this morning, Tallant ?” 

“ I’ve got to go through the Ninety-eighth Street 
tenements,” answered the collector. 

“ Then you may as well take the young man with 
you. We are behind in our collections,” he explained, 
turning to Jack, “and Mr. Mackay suggested that 
you take a few of the smaller buildings for a week or 
two.” 

This pleased Jack, who lost no time in copying the 
long lists of names and amounts due from each tenant, 
as his instructor directed. It was a very simple sys- 
tem, the floor occupied by the tenant being marked 
in the first column, the date of the month the rent 
began in the second, and the rent per month in the 
third. Then followed the tenant’s name, with the 
total amount due opposite. When the book was 
finally made up, the other clerks had arrived. Intro- 
ductions were now in order, after which Tallant and 
Jack started out for East Ninety-eighth Street. 

“You see Monday’s our busy day,” began Tallant, 
when they were comfortably seated in a Lexington 
Avenue car. “Mr. Mackay doesn’t care to handle 


AMONG THE TENEMENTS 


43 


tenement property, but as Colonel Vreeland never 
sells under his price, there is considerable such 
property on the books.” 

“ What makes him buy it ? ” asked Jack, anxious to 
learn all he could. 

“ He doesn’t buy it, but now and then he fore 
closes on a piece of property in order to protect him- 
self,” explained the other. “ He’s very rich, and puts 
all his money in real estate. I’ve heard some people 
say that he got squeezed in Wall Street for a million 
or so about ten years ago, and hasn’t been down that 
way since. Were you ever in a tenement ? ” asked 
Tallant, abruptly changing the subject. 

“ I never was,” answered Jack, “but I’ve heard 
about tenement rows.” 

- “ Well, you didn’t hear any lies,” continued Tallant, 
earnestly. “ I’ve seen some pretty fierce scraps, off 
and on, and I tell you it’s a wonder more people 
aren’t killed.” 

“ Really ? ” 

“ Sure thing. Why, I was collecting down in East 
Forty-third Street last Saturday night, where I saw 
two women fighting in a way that would have made 
your hair stand on end. They both had lived on the 
ground floor of one of Colonel Vreeland’s buildings, 
but one moved to the third floor last month, which 
made the other mad. She said her friend was trying 
to get up in the world, which was literally true, and 
meant to have satisfaction. I tell you half the people 


44 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


in this city don’t know how the other half live,” and 
Tallant settled back in his seat with a very serious 
expression. 

“ I suppose they are so crowded for room and pure 
air that it makes them surly and restless,” ventured 
Jack. 

“ That’s one reason, but not the main one,” con- 
tinued Tallant, speaking with the certainty that 
comes of observation and experience. 

“ What’s the main one ? ” 

“ Why, beer and whiskey — all intoxicating liquors. 
Drink’s the greatest vice in this great city to-day, 
and those who don’t see it must be blind. Every- 
body drinks. I take a glass or two myself, now and 
then — don’t you ? ” 

“ I never drank a drop of liquor in my life,” said 
Jack. 

“ Not even beer ? ” 

“No — not even beer.” 

“ Well, you’re right. Stick to that resolution, and 
you’ll be just so much ahead.” 

“ I intend to stick to it,” said Jack, with a good- 
natured smile. 

“ We’ve got to get the rent here at this corner 
saloon,” said Tallant, as they left the car. “ This 
man had a five-year lease when Colonel Vreeland 
bought these buildings in last fall, or else he couldn’t 
stay. The colonel won’t lease to rum-sellers.” 

They entered through the swinging doors, and Jack 


AMONG THE TENEMENTS 


45 


had his first view of the interior of an average 
New York saloon. He was struck by the rich 
woodwork, the highly polished mirrors, and the quan- 
tity of polished glassware. Two bartenders, clad in 
white duck, were kept busy behind the onyx and 
mahogany bar, while a third man, evidently the 
proprietor, was counting a pile of bills by the cash 
register. 

“ The result of a little side-door business yester- 
day,’^ whispered Harvey, getting out his book. 
“ Good morning, Mr. Connelly.” 

“ Oh, it’s you, hey,” replied the proprietor, not 
very hospitably. 

“Nice day,” said Tallant, ignoring the words. “I 
want to introduce our new collector. He’s going to 
help us out for awhile.” 

Connelly scowled at Jack as he plunged his hand 
into his trousers pocket, bringing forth a- fat roll of 
bills. “ I suppose you want some money,” he said, 
irritably, and began counting the currency while 
Tallant wrote a receipt in full for September. “ One 
hundred and fifty dollars.” 

“ Count it, Jack,” said Tallant, as he crossed off 
the figures opposite Connelly’s name and made a 
separate entry of the sum on a fresh page under 
the date of Monday, September 28th. Jack made 
the same entry: in his book, after which they went 
out through the rear of the saloon, where a tiny child 
was waiting for a “ pint of lager ” she had ordered of 


4 6 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

the bartender. Two men were drinking at a table 
near by, and Jack thought their language the worst 
he had ever heard. 

“ It’s a downright shame that little thing has to 
listen to such talk,” he said, warmly, as they climbed 
the stairs to the apartments above. 

“ That’s the way all that saloon glitter is paid for, 
and I’ll bet it isn’t a bit worse than she hears in her 
own home,” retorted Tallant. “ It’s a big handicap, 
I know, and a wonder to me that tenement children 
grow up and make anything at all.” 

“ How long have you been with Mackay and Com- 
pany ? ” asked Jack, who didn’t like to see the dark 
side of things altogether. 

“Four years, and I’ve seen a lot of misery in that 
time. You’d better believe life is no joke, especially 
among the poor. You’ll see,” and Tallant knocked 
sharply on the first door. 

“ Who’s there ? ” came falteringly from within. 

“The agent,” replied Tallant, sternly. 

There w r as a short pause, which was ended by a 
meek little woman with a sad, woebegone expression 
opening the door and saying, hesitatingly : 

“I have nothing for the landlord to-day. My hus- 
band is down sick, and my boy won’t be paid off 
until Thursday.” 

“ We can’t wait, Mrs. Beggs,” said Tallant, 
decidedly. “ This is the third time you have broken 
your promise.” He wrote the words “ Dispossess 


AMONG THE TENEMENTS 


47 


to-night ” opposite her name, and continued along 
the hall. 

“You wouldn’t put her out, would you?” asked 
Jack. 

“ Certainly — why not ? ” 

“ Because she’ll pay Thursday.” 

“ Don’t believe those fairy tales. She can’t get 
unlimited credit of her butcher, can she?” 

“ I suppose not.” 

“ Then why should she expect to get her rent on 
credit ? One is just as important as the other, if not 
more so. Don’t let sentiment enter into this work, 
Jack, or you’ll be a flat failure.” 

They were more successful at the next tenant’s, 
collecting the month’s rent of twenty dollars. 

“ That’s a lot of money you’ve got already,” said 
Jack, as Tallant made a neat roll of the currency. 
“ Suppose some one should rob you ? ” 

“ Well, the trust company’d be the loser,” replied 
the collector. “ I’m bonded for two thousand dollars, 
and it costs me fifteen dollars a year. You ought to 
feel mighty lucky Mr. Mackay didn’t ask you for a 
bond. He must have liked your face pretty well.” 

It was fortunate that they were in a dim light, for 
Jack felt his face turning rosy red at the compliment. 

“ He won’t keep you long on three dollars a week 
if he sends you out to collect, either,” continued 
Tallant. “They raised me after I’d been with them 
a month, and now I’m making eighteen a week.” 


43 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


At the next apartment, Tallant had been instructed 
to go through the rooms and order required repairs. 
He wrote these orders out neatly on slips of paper 
printed for the purpose, and put them away to be 
turned in at night to Mr. Forbes, who, in turn, gave 
them out to the painters, carpenters, or plumbers, as 
the orders indicated. 

“ It’s quite a trick to know what ought to be 
done/’ he explained to Jack, who admired the busi- 
nesslike methods of his affable guide. “ Don’t let 
the tenants make you believe that black is white. 
If you see that a room needs papering or kalsomining, 
order it done. If you think it is quite presentable, 
tell them that they’ll have to wait awhile. That’s 
all we’ve got to do in this house. Now we’ll go down 
to the coloured tenements.” 

“ Where are they ? ” 

“Just below here, and a bad lot, too.” 

Jack noticed the firm’s “To Let” bills on several 
four-story brick buildings, the first of which Tallant 
turned into. The younger lad instantly detected the 
peculiar musk that emanates from houses tenanted 
by coloured people, but that was not the worst of it. 
The halls were dark and filled with foul smells of all 
sorts. “ Hold your nose,” advised Tallant, guessing 
Jack’s thoughts. 

They entered the first floor rear, west side, there 
being four families on a floor. There Tallant found 
the janitor, a coloured man of advanced years, who 


AMONG THE TENEMENTS 


49 


was assisting his wife with a large washing. Three 
small rooms composed these apartments, which rented 
for about seven dollars a month. 

“A leetle money to-day, sah,” said he, emptying 
the contents of a shaving-cup on the table. “Two 
dollars from Banks, three from Cisco, and five from 
Herbert. Herbert says he gets a full receipt, sah.” 

“That’s right. You write the receipts, Jack, — 
account receipts for Banks and Cisco. Cromwell, 
you tell Cisco if he doesn’t pay up August rent by 
Thursday night that we’ll dispossess him.” 

“ Yes, sah.” 

When the receipts were written, the amounts were 
credited on the books and entered on the day’s 
receipts. 

“ Always go to the janitors first,” advised Tallant, 
as they descended to the dark and gloomy basement, 
where the rents were lower. “ They’re allowed to 
receive money from the tenants, as these working 
people are hard to catch at home. The janitors get 
their rent free, and are supposed to keep the build- 
ings clean, and notify the office if anything happens. 
But you’ve got to keep behind them, for they’re a 
lazy lot.” 

Tallant seemed to have every detail of the business 
at his finger-ends. He knew just how to approach 
each tenant, could detect counterfeit money at a 
glance, and wrote receipts so rapidly that it made 
the tenants stare. “ You’ll get hold of the ropes 


50 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

after a week or two,” he said, encouragingly, giving 
Jack the benefit of his four years’ experience in such 
a whole-souled manner that the boy was doubly grate- 
ful for the information. 

“ I hope so,” said Jack, thoughtfully. “ Now that 
I’ve got a start, I want to hold on.” 

“ Of course you do. Every business has its dis- 
agreeable features, and tenement property is a 
disagreeable feature of the real estate business. 
McPherson and I shift our routes every two weeks, 
so it evens up. We’re more likely to detect any 
mistakes in this way, and it pleases Mr. Forbes. 
How would you like to try this house alone ? ” 

“ First-class,” replied Jack, promptly. 

‘‘Then I’ll introduce you to the janitor. Middle- 
ton, this is our new collector. Any money ? ” 

“ No money, sah,” replied the negro, yawning after 
a blissful doze. “ Mrs. Cooper wants to see the 
agent, sah.” 

“That’s the fourth front west,” explained Tallant, 
without consulting his book. “ She owes a dollar on 
August.” 

Deciding to begin on the top floor, Jack presently 
found himself knocking at Mrs. Cooper’s door, which 
was very slowly opened by a little girl in a checked 
pinafore. He espied another little girl soon after, 
and still another child was seen sprawling on the 
floor in a wide band of sunshine. The room seemed 
to be full of Coopers. 


AMONG THE TENEMENTS 


5 


“ Is your mamma in ? ” asked Jack, bending over 
to catch the child’s answer. 

“ Agent ? ” 

“Yes, I’m the agent,” rejoined Jack, wondering if 
the young one understood the meaning of the word. 

“Dollar — long paper,” answered the child, ex- 
tending a very dirty and crumpled bill. 

“You shall have a full receipt,” said the boy, 
surprised at the child’s intelligence. 

Having written the receipt, Jack smoothed out the 
bill, and put it carefully away, for he considered 
the modest start a good omen. Stepping across the 
hall, he knocked briskly on Gilpol Hinton’s door. 

“ Come ! ” cried a shrill voice, at which Jack 
entered. 

“ Well ? ” fiercely demanded a coloured woman, 
her hands on her hips. 

“ I’m the collector for the rent,” answered Jack, 
curtly. 

“ Don’t you ever come knockin’ on my door no 
more,” she commanded, the whites of her eyes gleam- 
ing wickedly. “ ’Cause if you do, I’ll burn you, 
sure’s I’m livin’. When I get money, I’ll leave it 
with the janitor, honey,” she concluded, seeing that 
her caller was sufficiently impressed. She started 
toward the stove, at which Jack beat a hasty retreat. 

“ Gracious ! ” he exclaimed, when he had closed the 
door behind him. “ I wonder how much she owes,” 
he soliloquised, resolved on showing her no quarter. 


52 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


But on glancing at his book he found that the rent 
had been paid to the first of October, and therefore 
he should not have called at all. “ Now that was a 
bright thing to do,” he concluded, bis wits sharpened 
by a little bit of experience. Jack made no more 
mistakes, and was fairly successful in his collections 
on the way down. He found his comrade awaiting 
him in the street. 

“ Well, we’re done for this morning,” said Harvey, 
when Jack had reported his luck. They turned 
toward Third Avenue, where Harvey bought an early 
copy of an afternoon paper, after which they con- 
tinued up the hill to Lexington Avenue, boarding the 
first car. “We’ll be back before noon,” he added, 
glancing over the sheet, “and will have to run 
some errands. How do you like collecting in the 
tenements ? ” 

“Not much,” answered Jack, honestly. “They 
keep such very dirty homes.” 

Harvey roared. “ Why, say, they’re clean to some 
I’ve seen. Hello ! what’s this ! Colonel Vreeland’s 
daughter in a park runaway — saved by the heroism 
of a youthful unknown.” And Harvey went on and 
read several flowery paragraphs that made Jack’s 
head whirl. “ Well, he was a big fool not to make 
himself known — that’s all I’ve got to say. Colonel 
Vreeland isn’t the man to let a deed like that go 
unrewarded. In my humble opinion, that boy was an 
unmitigated jackass.” 






















































































- 



































































































































































































AMONG THE TENEMENTS 


55 


“ Hist, Harvey ! ” cried Jack, nearly exploding with 
ill-concealed mirth. “ Won’t you ever ‘ let on ’ if I 
tell you something ? ” 

“Why, no,” replied Harvey, still intent on the 
paper. 

“Then I’ll tell you: I stopped that horse last 
Friday.” 

“ What ! ” ejaculated Tallant, in a voice that drew 
the attention of every passenger. “ Is that the 
reason you got the place with Mackay ? ” 

“No. Nobody knows it but you and me, and 
those at home.” 

“ I congratulate you most heartily,” and Harvey 
grasped Jack’s hand warmly. “ I told you the Jacks 
were all good boys,” he continued, flinging down the 
paper. “Tell me about it.” 

Jack gave a brief description of the incident, 
which tallied pretty exactly with the account in the 
paper. “ But what I can’t understand is, why this 
paper has just printed it.” 

“ That doesn’t feaze me,” replied Harvey, with a 
hard laugh. “They’ve just got hold of the fact that 
Miss Edna is a daughter of Colonel Vreeland, the 
multi-millionaire, and accordingly stretch a foot-note 
to city jottings into a special extra three days later. 
That’s the style of journalism that pays, my- boy, 
for this story will please the people. Well, here 
we are,” and Harvey motioned the conductor to 
stop. 


56 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“You know what you agreed to,” said Jack, re- 
minding Harvey of his promise as they approached 
the office. But Tallant reassured him by saying, as 
they turned the corner : 

“ Not a word from me, depend upon it.” 

The usual order of business was progressing 
quietly when the lads entered : the typewriter was 
jingling merrily, Mr. Johnson was at work on a very 
large ledger, and Mr. Mackay sat in his private 
office conversing with a stout, smooth-shaven gentle- 
man. 

“ Mr. Tallant, here’s the deposit for the bank,” 
said the broker. “ How does your young charge 
get on ? ” 

“ First-rate,” replied Harvey, heartily. 

“Then take him down to the bank with you and 
let the tellers see him. Mr. Forbes has gone up- 
town,” said Mr. Mackay, nodding pleasantly to Jack. 

Tallant put the bank-book in the inside pocket of 
his coat. “That’s Mr. Billings, the new steward for 
Colonel Vreeland. He’s a touchy old soul, so don’t 
cross him. I suppose he’s telling Mr. Mackay all 
about the runaway,” he said, as they started for the 
bank. “ I wonder what they’d say if they knew 
that you were the ‘youthful unknown!’ I say, Jack, 
you’re a lucky rascal.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


A FRIEND IN NEED 

A S Harvey Tallant had predicted, Jack soon “got 
hold of the ropes.” He interested himself in 
every detail of the business, and, thanks to Harvey’s 
innumerable hints, was able to simplify njpch of the 
work. Mr. P'orbes found little or no fault, which 
Harvey pronounced the very highest praise. 

Jack continued to attend to the office work and 
look after six or seven tenements, but it was not 
until the following week that he was called upon to 
deliver several important letters to Colonel Vreeland 
at his Fifth Avenue mansion. By this time much of 
the talk concerning Miss Edna’s adventure in the 
park had died out, and, as Harvey kept his promise, 
Jack was not connected with the incident. Daisy 
had regularly cut the clippings from the papers, 
which she read each evening to Jack and her 
mother. They afforded much amusement and a 
great source of pride to Mrs. Benham and Daisy, 
but Jack was.glad when they ceased to appear. P'or 
very good reasons he wished the matter dropped, 
and hoped that no embarrassing situations would 
57 


58 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

result from his calls at Colonel Vreeland’s. He was 
sincere in this, for it seemed like taking a mean 
advantage of his position to have it known that he 
was in the employ of Colonel Vreeland’s broker. 
He considered that he had done no more than his 
duty, and desired no further thanks than he had re- 
ceived from Miss Edna herself. 

Colonel Vreeland’s house was not many blocks 
from the office, and Jack presently found himself 
nearing it. It was a handsome building of plain 
brownstone, standing on the southwest corner. The 
windows were large and cheerful-looking, the stoop 
wide and hospitable. Jack ran up the steps and 
pressed the button of the electric bell, at which the 
door was quietly opened by a grave butler. 

“ I have come from Mackay and Company with 
letters for Colonel Vreeland,” said Jack, stating his 
business at once. 

“Walk in, sir,” replied the butler, indicating the 
library at the left by a deferential bow. “ Be seated, 
sir, I’ll tell the colonel.” 

Jack found himself in a cheerful room lined for 
the most part with permanent bookcases, which were 
filled with books bound in heavy leather. A large 
library table, fairly covered with late magazines and 
periodicals, stood in the middle of the room", with a 
couple of easy-chairs alongside. Several very excel- 
lent etchings and bronzes filled the space above the 
bookcases, while a large mahogany desk gave a dis- 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


59 


tinct business air to the Fifth Avenue end of the 
room. A fire-board of carved oak screened an elabo- 
rate fireplace, above which hung a splendid moose- 
head, the result of a trip to the North Woods. 
Seating himself by the desk, Jack patiently awaited 
the colonel’s appearance. The minutes did not drag, 
for he presently heard voices in the music-room 
across the hall, and soon 
after recognised a girl’s voice 
saying : 

“ It’s in the library, pro- 
fessor, I can get it in a 
second.” 

Jack caught up a news- 
paper just in time, and pre- 
tended to be very much 
absorbed while Miss Edna 
rummaged among the maga- 
zines. After a little time 
she tripped out again, Jack 
lowering his paper cautiously. 

He heard the sound of laugh- 
ter a moment after, and the same voice insisting : 

“ I tell you it’s perfect, professor, and flatters you 
immensely,” to which statement the professor stoutly 
replied : 

“ Mein Himmel ! I can with difficulty myself recog- 
nise,” which spirited speech bringing the conversa- 
tion to a close, the lesson began. Jack was treated 



6o 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


to some very pretty exercises, which were occa- 
sionally abruptly terminated by the professor’s voice 
exclaiming, excitedly : 

“ Not dot way, but with a little more softness yet,” 
and then would follow a masterly bit of technique. 

The lesson was still progressing with frequent 
interruptions when Colonel Vreeland entered. He 
was closely followed by the steward, whose stout 
form, smooth face, and generally fair complexion 
contrasted strongly with the colonel’s soldierly bear- 
ing, bronzed countenance, iron-gray moustache, and 
black eyes. 

Jack arose, the letters in his hand. 

“ Be seated,” began the colonel, civilly, as he 
glanced through the mail. “ Billings, make an entry 
of this check of Mr. Mackay’s, and look over the 
September statements. Write a letter to Mr. Harri- 
son, saying that his last rates on the Nevada building 
are satisfactory, but that a three-year policy will be 
sufficient.” 

“Very well, sir,” replied the steward, filing the 
letters for reply. 

“ Be sure to write Farnsworth about his Lake- 
wood cottage, as Mrs. Vreeland has decided to 
spend the winter there. The rest you can do your- 
self. Tell Mr. Mackay not to give any more 
tenants my address, as his terms on afl buildings 
are final.” 

“Yes, sir.” 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


6 1 

“ I can’t think of anything else. I’m going to 
Westchester this afternoon, and won’t be down till 
evening. Good morning.” 

“ Good morning, sir.” 

Mr. Billings continued to write for nearly an hour 
after the colonel’s departure, which gave Jack ample 
time to study the man’s many characteristics. Not- 
withstanding his large size and generally important 
air, Jack somehow got the impression that Mr. 
Jasper Billings was a small man. He not only 
wrote a small, womanish hand, but did things in a 
small way. His restless, watery blue eyes never 
rested on anything or anybody in particular, and yet 
he got through his work remarkably well. When 
he had directed the several letters he placed a rub- 
ber band around them, handing the package to Jack. 

“The letter to Mr. Mackay you needn’t mail. 
The others I want dropped in the sub-station, not 
the letter-box on the corner — understand ? ” As 
he said this he bit nervously at the end of a cigar, 
which he evidently had no intention of lighting. 

“Yes, sir.” / 

“ Don’t forget it, either. That tall dude in your 
office should be discharged for his impertinence. 
He angered me on several occasions, and I haven’t 
forgotten it yet,” 

Jack was glad to be in the street again, smiling 
grimly as he recalled the disagreeable ways of Mr. 
Billings, who had spoiled an otherwise pleasant call, 


62 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


and the flattering allusion to his friend Harvey. 
“ Harvey’s opinion of him was about right, I guess,” 
he concluded, reflectively. “ I’ll get myself into 
trouble with that man if I’m not careful.” 

For the next fortnight Jack kept steadily at work, 
making many friends in the office and among the 
tenants. His salary had been advanced to six dol- 
lars a week, and he had earned the good opinion of 
Gerald Mackay, who admired the lad’s straightfor- 
ward ways and frank confessions — for Jack, being 
human, was prone to errors. But he profited by his 
experience, always seeking to avoid a repetition of 
the same mistakes. Quick to see and learn, he 
reflected on what he saw, and by degrees came 
to the conclusion that something was amiss with 
his friend Harvey. Just what it was he could not 
say, for Harvey was always the good friend, always 
ready to quietly straighten out any little problem 
that baffled Jack’s brain. Jack had grown deeply 
attached to Harvey, although he saw nothing of 
him outside of business hours. 

One day the collectors’ routes were ordered sud- 
denly shifted, several buildings falling to Jack that 
he had never before visited. He made up his book 
alongside of Harvey, who seemed unusually haggard 
and pale. The quiet McPherson was on the other 
side, and Mr. Forbes had not yet arrived. After 
awhile Jack leaned over and spoke to Harvey. 

“ Aren’t you well, Harve ? ” said he. 


A FRIEND IN NEED 63 

“ Sure thing,” answered Tallant, twitching ner- 
vously. “ What made you ask ? ” 

“You look sick,” said Jack, frankly. 

“ No, I’m all right,” insisted Harvey, who seemed 
to be a little excited. “ Up late last night.” 

It was an eventful day for Jack. On entering the 
first tenement he was shocked at the condition of 
two deformed children, who lay so peacefully on their 
little bed, and who must have suffered so patiently 
that the boy’s eyes welled up with tears of pity. 
The mother seemed a little simple, Jack thought, but 
the maternal instinct was there as she drew back 
the sheet and exposed the withered limbs, saying 
tenderly as she did so : 

“ Whose boy are you, Jamie ? ” 

“ I’m my mamma’s boy, and I pray for God to 
bless my mamma,” answered the little fellow, plain- 
tively. 

“ And whose baby are you, Joe ? ” 

“Mamma’s baby,” said Joe, lifting up his frail 
little hands to pat his mother’s cheeks. “ I love 
my mamma and my papa, and Jamie and Katie.” 

“ How old are they ? ” asked Jack, huskily. 

“ Six and seven,” answered the mother. 

“ It’s too bad,” concluded Jack, with tender sym- 
pathy, as he started to leave. “ I’ll wait for the 
money, Mrs. Nichols.” 

He went through the buildings with fair success, 
after which he continued down Seventh Avenue, 


6 4 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


calling on a second-hand clothier, who had leased 
the entire building at the corner of Thirty-sixth 
Street. 

“ I’ve come for the rent for Mackay and Company,” 
began Jack, producing his book as a matter of course, 
and turning to the account. 

The proprietor eyed him narrowly for several sec- 
onds ; then, having lighted a cheroot, calmly asked 
to see Jack’s letter of introduction. 

“ Here it is,” said Jack, passing it to the merchant, 
who scanned it very carefully before handing it back. 

“There’s some mistake on your book,” said the 
clothier, bluntly. “There’s my receipt for October, 
— one hundred and thirty dollars.” 

Jack took the slip and noted the dates. It was one 
of Tallant’s receipts, and, according to it, the money 
had been paid on the second of October. 

“ Is it all O. K. ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” answered Jack, closing his book. “ The 
mistake is mine.” 

“ I guess it is,” replied the man, dryly. 

Feeling somewhat crestfallen, Jack left the mer- 
chant without replying. He paused for a moment 
on the sidewalk, undecided whether to start up or 
down the avenue. Happening to glance across the 
street, he noticed Harvey Tallant watching him from 
behind an electric light pole. He was very pale, and, 
as Jack joined him, he noticed little beads of per- 
spiration on Harvey’s forehead. 


A FRIEND IN NEED 65 

“What’s the matter, Harve ? ” said Jack, alarmed 
at his friend’s condition. 

“ What did Snyder tell you ? ” 

“ Why, he showed me your receipt for October, 
that’s all. I thought I had made a mistake in taking 
the account from the ledger. Didn’t I ? ” 

There was a short pause. 

“ No, you didn’t,” answered Tallant, doggedly. “ I 
got that money on the second, and I didn’t turn it in. 
And now I’ve spent most of it.” 

“Oh, Harvey!” cried Jack, now thoroughly dis- 
tressed. “ I can’t believe my ears.” 

“You’d better believe them,” said Harvey, with 
half-closed eyes. “ Yes,” he repeated, slowly, in a 
hard, dry voice, “ I got that money on the second, 
and I’ve lost a hundred dollars at. the card-table, 
Jack.” 

Jack stared blankly at the sidewalk, as if doubting 
his senses. 

“ You think I’m too good to do a thing like that, 
I suppose,” sneered Tallant, “ but I ain’t. I’m a bad 
egg, Jack Benham.” 

It was hard to believe that this was the same 
Harvey Tallant who had talked so earnestly a short 
fortnight before. 

“ Don’t talk like that, Harvey,” begged Jack. 
“ Let’s get to some other place. If we stand here, 
Snyder may see us, and take his receipt to the 
office.” 


66 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


Harvey laughed bitterly. “You’ll have to tell 
them to-night, anyhow.” 

Jack stepped nearer, taking Tallant by the arm, 
and leading him away from the corner. “ Don’t give 
up yet,” he said, hopefully, as they turned into a quiet 
side street. “Tell me one thing: is that all you 
have used, Harvey ? ” 

“Why don’t you say stolen?” demanded Harvey, 
fiercely. “Yes, that’s all; and do you know what 
it means to me, Jack Benham ? It means disgrace 
and ruin. I’ll lose my place, and the trust company 
will put me on the black list. That will wind me up 
in good shape, I guess. I wouldn’t care so much for 
myself, but there’s the old folks and Billy — it’ll go 
hard with them, Jack.” 

“But how on earth did you do such a thing?” 
asked Jack, amazedly. 

“Oh, it’s easy enough when you once get a start, 
and mighty hard to stop. It seems to get such a 
grip on you that you’d rather gamble than eat,” and 
Harvey passed a hand across his forehead like one 
stunned. 

“You mustn’t let this thing be found out, or you’ll 
go down-hill fast,” argued Jack, with keen percep- 
tion. “ Then everybody’ll give you a kick. No, 
Harvey,” he concluded, reflectively, “you mustn’t 
give up.” 

“ What can I do ? ” cried Tallant, hopelessly. “ I’ve 
played in such bad luck lately that my nerve’s all 


A FRIEND IN NEED 6? 

gone. And I can’t borrow a cent, for I’ve pushed 
my credit to the limit.” 

“ Promise to give up this wretched gambling,” said 
Jack, decidedly, “and I’ll help you out.” 

The change in Tallant as Jack spoke the words was 
marvellous. “Will you, Jack,” he fairly screamed, 
taking Jack’s hand in a vise-like grip. “I’ve got 
thirty dollars, and I can get twenty-five on my 
watch. Lend me seventy-five for a few months, 
Jack, and I’ll brace up. You’ll not be sorry, 
Jack,” and Harvey sat down on the nearest steps, 
and cried like a child. 

“ I wouldn’t hit a fellow when he’s down,” said 
Jack, consolingly, for Harvey’s grief was touching. 
“ Why, you’ve done a lot for me, Tdarve. It’s only 
an even break, anyhow.” 

“ We’ve got to get a move on,” continued Harvey, 
irrelevantly, pulling himself together and glancing at 
his watch. “ It’s nearly twelve o’clock. Where’s 
your money, Jack ? ” 

“In the Bowery Bank.” 

“ That’s a long way down-town. Have you got to 
go home for your book ? ” 

Jack nodded. 

“Then hurry up,” directed Harvey, impatiently. 
“ Seventy-five dollars, remember, and not a cent 
more. I’ll meet you at Forty-sixth Street and Lex- 
ington Avenue at four o’clock,” and Tallant started 
off across town as fast as his legs would carry him. 


68 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


When he was well down the block, Jack began to 
reflect a little. He wondered whether his mother 
would accede to the loan, and if she did not, whether 
he would have the right to draw out the greater part 
of his savings to save Harvey from the penalty of his 
own foolishness. In fancy he could hear Harvey’s 
voice repeating the words that had appealed to him 
so strongly : “ I’ll lose my place, and the trust com- 
pany will put me on the black list. That will wind 
me up in good shape, I guess.” Jack understood 
how it would “wind him up,” as he expressed it, for 
the question of character is very seriously considered 
by employers nowadays. And Jack felt that Harvey 
should be given a chance. Somehow it didn’t seem 
right to brand Harvey a thief and darken his whole 
future when a loan of seventy-five dollars might make 
a man of him. It was a lot of money, and Harvey 
had done very wrong ; but so had many others. Why 
should he turn against his friend now ? Besides, he 
had given his word, and that meant everything to 
Jack. Thus occupied in mind, he took a cross-town 
car, transferring at Lexington Avenue. Nobody was 
at home, for Daisy was at school, and Jack of late had 
been taking his luncheons at convenient restaurants. 
He got his bank-book and took the Elevated down- 
town, where he drew out the money at the bank. 
Returning up-town, he found Harvey, flushed and 
impatient, waiting at the corner as early as half-past 
three. 


A FRIEND IN NEED 69 

“ Did you get it ? ” he asked, eagerly. “ Did you 
get it, Jack ? ” 

“ It’s in my pocket.” 

“ Good ! ” and Harvey snapped his fingers ner- 
vously. “ Come up to the house and have a cup of 
tea, Jack. I want the folks to see you.” 

They turned into Forty-seventh Street, entering a 
modest apartment near the railroad. 

“This is our new clerk, John Benham, father,” 
began Harvey, addressing a middle-aged gentleman 
who sat in a low chair by the window. 

“ Excuse my not rising,” said the gentleman, feebly. 
“ Will you be seated.” 

“ My mother, Jack,” and Harvey looked proudly at 
a lady standing in the doorway. Jack bowed respect- 
fully. “ Here’s a chair, Jack,” continued Harvey, hos- 
pitably. “ We’ve come up for a cup of tea, mother. 
Make mine good and strong.” 

“ I’m glad you’ve brought Mr. Benham with you,” 
said Harvey’s mother, with an anxious smile. “You 
seem more like yourself to-day, Harvey.” 

“ Oh, I’m all right,” protested Harvey, whose eyes 
were unnaturally bright. “Jack’s the best chap in 
the world.” 

They went into Harvey’s room, where. Harvey 
counted out fifty-five dollars on the bed. “ That 
will make up the hundred and thirty,” he said, with 
a long sigh of relief. “ Enter it on your account 
to-night as if Snyder had given it to you. He 


70 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


never goes to the office, and that will end the 
matter.” 

“ Did you have to pawn your watch ? ” 

“Tut, tut,” and Harvey looked earnestly into the 
mirror as he brushed his yellow curls. “ How do I 
look, Jack ? ” 

“Better,” said Jack, frankly. 

“ Do I look hottest , Jack ? ” 

“ Of course you do.” 

“ Well, I feel like a new man,” replied Harvey, in 
the old frank voice. “ Come, I smell the tea.” 

They were soon in the street again. “ I’ve got to 
go down-town,” said Harvey. “ So long, Jack,” and 
with shoulders back and head erect Harvey turned on 
his heel and started briskly off. It did Jack good to 
see him go. 

When Jack reached the office it was nearly five 
o’clock. 

“ Mr. Billings wants to see you right away,” said 
Miss Wilson, who had just answered a telephone call. 
“ He’s called you up three times this afternoon.” 

“Thank you,” said Jack, deciding to turn in his 
cash later. “ I’ll go up at once.” 

He hurried along Fifth Avenue, soon reaching the 
mansion, where he found the portly steward in an 
unreasonable bad humour over the delay. 

“Why didn’t you come up when I first tele- 
phoned ? ” he demanded, peevishly. 

“ I was not in the office, sir.” 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


7 1 


“ Not in the office, hey ! I suppose you were run- 
ning about the streets wasting your time — am I 
right ? ” 

“ Not altogether, sir.” 

“ No impudence, now, or I’ll have you discharged. 
Take this note to the Fifth Avenue Safe Deposit 
Company to-morrow morning and bring me an an- 
swer before noon.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And tell Mackay to send that coal I ordered,” 
continued the steward, wrathfully. “He promised 
to have it here to-day, confound him.” 

“Is that all ? ” 

“Isn’t that enough?” cried the steward, biting off 
the end of a fresh cigar. “You impertinent young 
brat, how dare you insult and defy me ?” 

“ Mr. Billings,” said Jack, with fine spirit, “ 1 have 
no desire to give you any unnecessary trouble, nor do 
I wish to defy you, as you express it. I was not in 
the office when you first telephoned, and I came up 
the moment I returned.” 

“No excuses,” said Billings, testily. “You can 
g°«” 

Jack took his hat and started for the dimly lighted 
hall, where, to his further confusion he encountered 
a young girl just emerging from the music-room. 
He recognised her at once as Miss Edna Vreeland, 
and she, in turn, must have recognised him, for she 
leaned back against the portieres with a pleasant 


7 2 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


smile, as if about to speak. But Jack kept soberly 
on his way, soon disappearing in the crowd of 
fashionables. 

“Who is that boy, Mr. Billings?” asked Miss 
Edna, as the steward was leaving the library. 

“ Oh, he’s one of Mr. Mackay’s clerks, Miss Edna,” 
replied the steward, suavely. “ He’s often been here 
on business.” 

“I thought I’d seen him before,” said Edna, with 
an odd little smile. “You must introduce me some 
day, Mr. Billings.” 

“Why, Miss Edna!” exclaimed the steward, “I 
don’t even know his name.” 

“ But I insist,” she said, still smiling. “ Now don’t 
forget.” 

Jack was pretty tired when he reached home that 
evening, tumbling into bed at an early hour. He had 
turned in the hundred and thirty dollars with his 
cash, entering the sum to Snyder’s credit, as Harvey 
had directed. But he did not sleep well. He had 
said nothing to his mother concerning the loan, 
which fact troubled him not a little as he tossed 
about the fore part of the night. Then, too, the day 
had been so full of exciting incidents that it was 
hard to forget them. He finally fell into a troubled 
sleep, and began to dream of his call on the clothier 
and the subsequent meeting with Tallant. Then he 
was suddenly back in the office again, and Mr. Bill- 
ings was bending over the cash-book with a truculent, 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


7 3 


penetrating stare in his watery blue eyes. “ How is 
this, Master Benham ? ” said he, coming at last to 
the Snyder entry. “This sum was paid to Tallant 
on the second, and you have entered it to-day. Mr. 
Mackay, he has falsified the account. Call in a 
policeman ! ” A heavy hand was laid on Jack’s 
shoulder, and he awoke to find his mother bending 
over him with an amused expression. 

“It’s nearly eight o’clock, Jack,” she .said. 
“ What were you dreaming about ? ” 


CHAPTER V. 


JASPER BILLINGS 

EG pardon, Mr. Billings, the 
young gentleman from the 
office is waiting in the li- 
brary.” 

“All right, Frazer. I’ll 
be down presently.” 

“Very well, sir.” 

“ Mr. Billings will be 
right down,” announced the 
butler, returning to the 
lower hall, and speaking 
into the library. 
jasper billings. « Thank you,” said Jack, 

taking up a magazine. 

It was about noon, and Jack had had a very busy 
morning. Owing to his restless night, he was not in 
the best of spirits, and, to make matters worse, he 
could not shake off the bad impression left by the 
very vivid dream from which his mother had awak- 
ened him. He had not mentioned the loan to her 
for two very natural reasons ; for he considered abso- 
74 



JASPER BILLINGS 


75 


lute secrecy in the matter a question of honour, and 
he disliked to worry his mother with a story that 
involved himself in a way that was not altogether 
legitimate ; for, though he had been perfectly inno- 
cent at the start, there was no disputing the fact that 
he had falsified an account on his employers’ books. 
Had he been alone concerned in the affair, he could 
have gone at once to Mr. Mackay and made a clean 
breast of his wrong-doing ; but this was now obviously 
impossible, for Harvey’s honour was at stake, and he 
was Harvey’s friend. He had deceived his mother 
and his employers, and had befriended Harvey — 
that was the sum and substance of the whole matter. 
Had he acted wisely ? Time alone could tell. 

While thus occupied in mind, Jack heard a footstep 
in the hall, and a moment later Mr. Jasper Billings 
entered. He was nobbily dressed in a steel-gray 
suit, and wore highly varnished boots and a scarlet 
necktie, which was knotted in the latest fashion. 
There was a red rose in his buttonhole, too. A 
foreign-looking, flat-crowned hat completed his attire, 
which was altogether so startling that Jack could 
scarcely believe his eyes. 

“Well?” came the monosyllabic question, testily. 

“ Here is the reply,” answered Jack, extending the 
Safe Deposit Company’s typewritten letter. “They 
kept me waiting, which is why I am so late.” 

Turning his back to the boy, Billings held the 
communication to the light. Apparently satisfied, 


76 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

he placed it on the desk and very carefully cut the 
short edge of the envelope, after which he walked 
over to the window and read the contents at length. 
He had not removed his hat, which struck Jack as 
odd, and he seemed a little flurried as he went to the 
telephone and called up 1408 Union Square. There 
was the usual brief parley with “ central,” followed 
by a short delay and the sound of an oily voice speak- 
ing into the transmitter. 

“Is this 1408 Union Square — Frost and Starr? 
I am Colonel Vreeland’s steward, and have been 
requested by Mrs. Vreeland to telephone you. Yes, 
that’s it, ^Colonel Vreeland’s steward. Mrs. Vreeland 
desires you to call for her jewels at the Fifth Avenue 
Safe Deposit Company, who have been instructed to 
deliver the box to you as usual. I mailed you an 
order on the company last night — did you get it ? 
Very good. There is a small ruby missing from a 
bracelet, and three pearls from a sunburst. Yes, do 
whatever’s required — of course, clean the brilliants. 
Yes, deliver the box to me at Colonel Vreeland’s 
residence, as per letter.” 

Mr. Billings put down the receiver with a little 
grunt of satisfaction. “You must excuse my con- 
duct last evening,” he said, affably. “ The truth of 
the matter is, I am overworked. What with house- 
keeper’s accounts, butchers’ bills, grocers’ bills, pay- 
rolls, and wine agents, to say nothing of the colonel’s 
private set of books, I have no time to myself, — not 


JASPER BILLINGS 


77 


a minute. Why, I’ve got to go down to Bay Ridge 
this very afternoon, and pay off the men on the 
colonel’s yacht, ordered out of commission for the 
season. You’ll say that’s not an easy task: thirty 
men, with unsettled accounts, dating from May, who 
have been drawing money off and on all summer, and 
who still expect enough to winter on. But they 
can’t argue with me, and they know it ; figures are 
figures,” concluded Mr. Billings, leisurely lighting a 
cigar, and settling back with a very self-satisfied air. 

But Jack was far from mollified by the weak 
apology. He did not forget the steward’s insulting, 
words, which in his opinion had been wholly uncalled 
for, and he did not desire a more intimate acquaint- 
ance with the man. So he accordingly ignored 
Billings’s last speech, saying, coolly, as he rose 
to go: 

“Is there anything else, Mr. Billings ? ” 

“ Yes. Here is a letter for Mackay, concerning 
the September statements. Did you tell him about 
the coal ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ What did he say ? ” 

“ He said you were highly unreasonable,” replied 
Jack, frankly. 

The steward hid his annoyance behind a silky 
smile. “Well, that’s drawing it pretty mild,” said 
he, as Jack left the room. “ That’s a proud young 
rascal,” he soliloquised, going to the window, and 


y8 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

glancing down the avenue. “ I’ll have to handle him 
with gloves hereafter, that’s a sure thing.” 

That night about eight o’clock the steward donned 
a mackintosh and started off in the direction of the 
East River. He had returned from Bay Ridge in a 
bad humour, for it is a long trip at any time, and it 
had rained steadily all the afternoon. He had found 
the seamen ready for all sorts of arguments, but the 
steward would not hear them. The men had been 
paid off according to the captain’s ledger, to the first 
of November, which Mr. Billings considered the 
height of liberality on the colonel’s part. Over two 
thousand dollars in currency had passed through his 
hands that day, but so complete was Colonel Vree- 
land’s system that the steward found it a difficult 
matter to appropriate even a small portion of his 
employer’s cash. Had the truth been known, he was 
none too good to do this, as those who knew*" him 
best could tell you. 

Since a certain episode in his career, some ten 
years before, he had been employed on an English- 
man’s estate, where he had lived quietly, beginning 
as second man, and raising himself to the position of 
under steward. It was on this gentleman’s flattering 
reference that Colonel Vreeland had given the man a 
trial, soon after engaging him permanently at a good 
salary ; for Billings was a first-class man with ser- 
vants, a splendid judge of horse-flesh, a satisfactory 
correspondent, and a clever accountant ; and though 


JASPER BILLINGS 


79 


Colonel Vreeland disliked the man personally, he had 
little fault to find with him in a business way. Bill- 
ings realised the importance of retaining his employ- 
er’s fullest confidence until a “decent haul could be 
made,” as he mentally expressed it, and it was this 
very delay that had made him so testy, peevish, and 
wholly unreasonable with his subordinates. A born 
criminal, he had weighed every possibility on a well- 
balanced mind for such work ; but it was not until 
that very morning that he had accepted anything 
as a probability. That was why he had put on his 
long coat, and had started through the rain for the 
river. 

Arriving at the water-front, he turned up his 
collar, adjusted a heavy false moustache, and pulled 
down his flat-crowned hat. The street was almost 
deserted on the riverside, where occasional lights 
gleamed faintly from the cabins of steam tugs, and 
two and three-masted schooners anchored along shore. 
Sailormen of all descriptions were huddled close 
together under the metal awnings of the saloons on 
the opposite side, for the night, though gusty and 
dark, was not cold. Billings kept on down the river- 
side, picking his way through puddles and loose piles 
of freight, with due regard to his natty attire and 
varnished boots. He finally came to a long, dimly 
lighted pier that smelt strongly of tar and salt fish, 
and was piled high with large barrels, which steam 
-derricks and lightermen were fast lowering into the 


8o 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


hold of a great steamer, whose shapely prow over- 
hung the street by twenty feet. Billings paused and 
looked about him, as though getting his bearings. 
Noticing a gaunt young fellow standing near, his 
hands in his pockets, the steward accosted him. 

“Say, Tommy,” said he, blandly, “where is the 
Sal lie Harkness ? ” 

The young fellow shrugged his shoulders and 
stepped back. “ Don’t know her,” said he. 

“Oh, yes, you do,” said Billings, taking a coin 
from his pocket. “ Where is the Sallie Harkness , 
Tommy ?” 

“Aw, me name ain’t Tommy,” retorted the youth, 
suspiciously. “ Do you take me for a good thing ? ” 
and the speaker eyed the coin with derision. 

“Well, make it a dollar,” said Billings, producing 
a bill. “ Have you got a boat ? ” 

“ I can get one, boss. What’s Chub been doin’ 
now — soakin’ some guy with a brick in a stockin’ ? ” 

“ I don’t know, I’m not a plain-clothes man,” as- 
sured Billings, in his most convincing tone, mean- 
ing that he was not a policeman in citizen’s dress. 
“ Chub Colwell’s an old friend of mine, and I haven’t 
seen him for years ; but I have read with great pain 
of his misdoings,” and the steward’s voice trembled 
with well-feigned emotion. 

“ So you’re one of the boys, hey ! ” soliloquised 
the youth, who had long since lost all faith in human 
nature. “ Chub’s just got his pal back,” he said 


JASPER BILLINGS 


8 I 


aloud. “His name is Frenchy, and he’s me half- 
brother ; he’s been doin’ time up the river, but don’t 
give me away.” 

“Very wrong, very, very wrong,” commented the 
steward, as they reached the pier. “ Which is your 
boat ? ” 

“ The little dory. Wait, I’ll bail her out.” He 
climbed down the long ladder and did so. “Come 
on,” said he, loosening the painter. “ Step on the 
middle plank or you’ll go through the bottom. You 
can bail and I’ll put her along fast.” 

“You’d better,” said Billings, testily. “Confound 
the old shell, she drinks like a fish,” and the steward 
put his varnished boots on the pail. “ Is the Sallie 
Harkness far out ? ” 

“ Naw, just round the next pier. Sure, Chub’s 
workin’ now — honest. He took two loads of oil to 
Bridgeport already.” 

“ I’ll bet he didn’t hurt himself,” sneered the 
steward. “Is Chub’s wife aboard?” 

“ Sure, she is — the woman and the little gal; ever 
seen the little gal ? ” 

“ Never mind the little gal,” stormed Billings, as 
the top of a wave broke over the low stern and 
caught him full in the back. “ Confound you, can’t 
you keep ahead of that swell, you fool ? ” 

« Here’s the Sallie Harkness ,” said the river boy, 
as the little dory struck the side of a vessel and went 
bumping toward the stern. “You’ll have to climb 


82 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


up yourself, ’cause Chub don’t leave a ladder for the 
river ‘ cops.’ Can you get hold ? ” 

“I’m all right,” answered Billings, drawing himself 
up by the ends of the starboard shrouds, which he 
could just reach by standing in the dory. “You 
needn’t come back — I’ll get ashore somehow,” he 
concluded, climbing laboriously over the rail. “ I 
wonder why the old man hasn’t got out his riding 
lights,” he soliloquised, stepping cautiously across 
the slippery deck to the cabin door, which he pushed 
in with one shove of his varnished boot. 

“ Avast, there ! ” cried an angry voice, as the 
steward stepped into a cosy cabin where two men 
were seated about a small table. The speaker was a 
large, bearded man, who stared at the intruder as 
though doubting his senses. His companion had 
dropped behind the table, and was now pointing a 
revolver at the steward’s head in a very businesslike 
way. 

“Put down that pistol,” said Billings, lifting his 
arm instinctively. “ That’s a pretty way to treat an 
old pal,” he added, throwing off the mackintosh and 
pulling nervously at his gloves. 

“ On my soul, it’s Dick Bolden ! ” cried the former, 
vehemently. “ Dick Bolden, or I’m gone clean daffy. 
Put up your gun, Frenchy. Dick won’t bite you.” 

“It is Dick,” said FYenchy, putting away the 
weapon and getting on his feet. “Well, I’ll be 
scuttled ! I can’t hardly believe my lamps ! ” and 


JASPER BILLINGS 


83 


Frenchy turned his shrewd little eyes on the stranger 
in a way that pleased the steward very much. “ Things 
have been lookin’ up, Dick,” said he, finally. “Any- 
thing on the carpet ? ” 

“ No, nothing special,” answered Billings, with his 
most serviceable smile. “ I saw in the paper that 
you had left your quarters up the river, Frenchy,” he 
continued, removing the ornamental appendage from 
his upper lip and toasting his hands at a tiny stove. 
“ So I thought I’d run down to your old haunts and 
look you up. Well, boys, you seem to be following 
the same old game — not much ahead of it, either, I 
take it,” he added, patronisingly. “Ten years have 
made a big change in my affairs, though,” and the 
steward sat down for a confidential chat. “Yes, ten 
years have made a big difference with me,” repeated 
the speaker, after a moment’s reflection. “ While 
you two idiots were doing time for your nonsensical 
blundering in that last job at Irvington, I was quietly 
working in Devonshire as second man to a Mr. Alfred 
Aspinwall, who favoured me with such an exceptional 
reference on my departure that on my arrival in New 
York I succeeded in hoodwinking one of your wealthy 
and influential citizens into employing me as steward 
and confidential man. Of course I had to choose 
another label when I hired out to Aspinwall, and 
now,” concluded Billings, rising and bowing a bit 
grandly, “now I am known to the world at large as 
Mr. Jasper Billings.” 


84 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

“Has the man gone daffy?” demanded Chub, 
utterly nonplussed by the somewhat flowery speech. 

“ He’s hopped clean off his pivot, that’s no joke,” 
confessed Frenchy, feeling for his weapon. 

“ I say, Dick, you can’t lend us a hundred to-night, 
can you ?” inquired Chub, tipping a wink to Frenchy. 
“ We ain’t got our ulsters yet, and my woman wants 
a dress.” 

Billings, understanding their doubts, was enjoying 
the situation hugely. “ I think I can let you have 
it,” replied he, thoughtfully, “ for I’ve got a little 
favour to ask of you. Are you on ? ” 

Frenchy bounded to his feet. “ I knew it, Dick,” 
said he, guardedly. “ Sure, we’re on.” 

“ What’s the style, Dick ? ” asked Colwell, cau- 
tiously, holding up a warning finger. “ I’m done 
with safe-crackin’, Dick Bolden.” 

“ I should think you were,” returned Billings, with 
fine irony. “ No, this is — ” 

“Keep it low,” interposed Colwell, leaning far over 
the table to catch the whispered words. “ It would 
make the woman sick/’ 

The steward blew a plume of smoke to the ceiling. 

“ This is a very simple matter,” said he, counting 
out ten crisp ten-dollar bills, which he tossed between 
the two. “ I’ll be down to post you when I get my 
plans further along, sometime next week.” 

“We’ll be here,” said Frenchy, feasting his eyes 
on the bills. “ We’ll be waitin’ on you, Dick,” he 


JASPER BILLINGS 


85 


repeated, as Billings rose to go. “ I’ll be back with 
the boat in the mornin’, Chub,” he concluded, turn- 
ing to Colwell, who lighted a lantern and followed 
them out on deck. It was raining hard, and there 
was considerable sea running. Frenchy got the 
schooner’s dory loose and held it while Billings 
climbed down. 

“Take the lantern,” advised Chub. “It ain’t 
overly mild, and you won’t want to waste no time 
afloat.” 



CHAPTER VI. 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


OR the next ten days Jack and Harvey saw 



A much of each other. The question of money 
was not introduced, and after the first meeting Jack 
never mentioned his worry over the Snyder entry, 
having sensibly concluded that his friend had bene- 
fited far more than he or his employers had suffered. 
It was one of those rare decisions that are right and 
wrong at the same time, and there Jack was content 
to let it rest. 

“ I want you to go to the theatre with me to-night, 
Jack,” said Harvey one evening. “ Reder, who keeps 
the cigar store in Thirty-fourth Street, gave me two 
tickets for ‘The Old Homestead ’ to-day. He gets a 
lot of tickets for placing show-bills in his window, 
and gives them to his friends when he can’t sell ’em. 
Have you ever seen the play ? ” 

“ No, but I’d like to,” answered Jack, who had 
been much taken with the large lithographs he had 
seen pasted on the fences. 

“ It’s an old play, but a good one,” explained 
Harvey. “ I’m done with cheap vaudeville, and 


86 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


87 


when I do go out hereafter, I mean to see some- 
thing good. The public has taken a fancy to vari- 
ety performances of late, and I guess they’ve come 
to stay ; but they’re not the thing. In my humble 
opinion, the stage was meant to benefit and amuse ; 
but the modern variety show as seen in this city does 
not do more than amuse. I am not referring to the 
marvellous acrobatic feats and clever innovations, but 
to the songs and monologues that a fellow wouldn’t 
want his own mother to hear. No,” concluded 
Harvey, indisputably, as they reached the avenue, 
“ they’re not the thing.” 

Jack made no reply, for during the past month he 
had seen and heard much that he had never before 
suspected. But he liked to hear Harvey’s views, 
which were always sound, although the unstudied 
result of casual observation and experience rather 
than the outcome of any very serious thought. 

“ I tell you, a fellow’s got to keep himself right 
from the very start or he’ll never make a man,” said 
Harvey, earnestly. “ There’s no half-way about it, 
I guess. A fellow can’t stand too straight in this 
world, Jack.” 

“ That’s what my mother used to tell me, and she 
made me believe it,” returned Jack, thoughtfully. 

“ There’s a big difference between men — a big dif- 
ference,” continued Harvey, philosophically. “There’s 
the man who. looks you in the eye and tells you what 
he thinks, and there’s the man who looks oyer your 


88 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


shoulder and tells you what he doesn’t think ; and 
worse than that, there’s the man who doesn’t see you 
at all, but goes around among your friends hitting 
you in the back.” 

“You ought to have been a preacher, Harvey,” 
said Jack, all admiration. 

“Nonsense! I’m not good enough for that. But 
a fellow can’t help airing his opinions once in a 
while,” and Harvey hurried across a side street just 
in time to avoid being knocked down by an express- 
man’s horse. “ I tell you, Jack, when a fellow’s once 
got himself out of a bad corner,” he went on, 
when Jack had joined him, “he looks around and 
wonders where he would have landed if he hadn’t 
made that move from the corner. Then, if he’s got 
a spark of manhood left, he takes a good brace.” 

Jack understood. “ But I don’t know any one who 
goes around hitting people in the back,” he objected. 
“Why, Harvey, you haven’t got an enemy in the 
world.” 

“ Haven’t I, though ! ” laughed Harvey. “ People 
are naturally jealous, Jack, and a great big majority 
only care for you if you’ve got a little money and can 
assist them in some way. If they can’t use you, as 
the saying goes, and you’re called poor, they are 
rather pleased than otherwise at your misfortunes.” 

“ You’re surely wrong,” protested Jack, who didn’t 
like to have his ideals shattered in this wholesale 
way. 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


89 


“It may sound pretty bard, but it’s so, and you’ll 
live to see it,” and Harvey lowered his voice percep- 
tibly. “ There’s that man Billings : he tried to get 
me discharged because I wouldn’t go down to see his 
broker for him — wanted to send me clear down to 
Wall Street on a Monday morning, and I refused.” 

“ You actually refused ! ” gasped Jack. 

“Certainly I refused. I said, ‘If this is for 
Colonel Vreeland, I shall have to spare the time.’ 
He wouldn’t say it was, so I didn’t go. He found 
no end of fault from that time on, and reported me 
to Mr. Mackay several times. But it didn’t do him 
any good,” and Harvey chuckled as he recalled the 
unpleasantness. 

“I think he is a very bad man,” said Jack, bluntly. 

“Why, what makes you think so ? He’s a mighty 
clever one, anyhow.” 

“I can’t tell why, but I think so,” repeated 
Jack, unable to explain himself further. Harvey 
came to his rescue. 

“ Oh, I know what you mean,” said he. “ He’s so 
smooth and fat and silky that you think he can’t be 
an upright man ; but that’s doing him an injustice ; 
he can’t help his looks, Jack.” 

“ It isn’t that ; he’s so awfully oily, and I don’t 
like his eyes.” 

“ Nearly all fair men have blue eyes,” laughed 
Tallant. “You have blue eyes yourself, Jack.” 

“ But I don’t steal glances at people, do I ? ” 


90 TWO BOYS IN THE B^UE RIDGE 

“ I should say not,” was the assuring reply, fol- 
lowed by a pause. “ It’s a pretty mean thing to 
tell, and it will surprise you,” Harvey proceeded. 
“ Who do you suppose I saw at the pawnbroker’s 
when I went to pledge my watch that day ? ” 

“ Billings ? ” 

“Yes, Billings. He had come for a loan of four 
hundred dollars on a diamond ring he used to wear 
on his little finger ; it was a beauty, and sparkled 
like an electric light.” 

“ Did he see you ? ” 

“ I don’t think so. T was in one of the private 
booths, and Billings came in the side entrance. I 
saw him as he opened the ground-glass door. He 
demanded four hundred, but Epstein said there was 
a black spot near the centre of the stone, and wouldn’t 
lend him more than three hundred on it. Billings 
fumed and fretted for awhile, finally accepting the 
loan.” 

“ I wonder why he has to raise money in that 
way ? ” 

“ Oh, that’s easy. I think he gambles some in 
Wall Street, and is what they call a swell dresser.” 

“You ought to see his last get-up,” said Jack, with 
a broad smile. “ It’s a black and tan suit that looks 
like a checker-board.” 

“ That’s because it’s Horse Show week,” explained 
Harvey. “ Horsy togs are the proper thing just 
now, and of course Jasper has to have them. But 


JACK DISAPPEARS 9 1 

he wouldn’t be so sporty if Colonel Vreeland were 
in town.” 

“ No, I noticed that,” said Jack. “ He’s been get- 
ting more ridiculous and irritable every day since 
Colonel Vreeland left. Whenever the telephone bell 
rings, I feel that I’m in for it. I tell you, Harve,” 
concluded Jack, with an ominous toss of his head, 
“ Billings and I are bound to have it out, sooner or 
later.” 

“ Nonsense. You do as he tells you, and hold 
your end up. Why, it’s only his way, Jack. I be- 
lieve he’s too cowardly to have any serious trouble 
with any one ; he’s just one of those mean chaps 
who go around hitting people in the back,” con- 
cluded Harvey, as they reached the theatre. “ For- 
get it, Jack, for here we are.” 

Jack enjoyed the play hugely. It was like him to 
take sides with the vagrant in the first act, and, 
when the kind old farmer extended the loan to take 
the wanderer back home, Jack joined liberally in the 
applause that followed. 

“ That’s like you” whispered Harvey. 

But Jack was too intent on the play to hear him ; 
for the farmer had fallen asleep on his own doorstep, 
and the distant meadows had faded into a barroom, 
where in fancy he saw his son standing with a glass 
of liquor in his hand. It was very touching, and 
Jack’s eyes were pretty misty as the curtain de- 
scended. “ I hope that tramp takes a brace,” he 


92 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

confided to Harvey, consulting his programme. “ He 
said he was Happy Jack, the rover, and he looked it.” 

“ Oh, he’ll take a brace,” assured Harvey, who had 
seen the play before. “ What did you think of the 
singing ? ” 

“ Fine.” 

“ In the next act we have the interior of a Fifth 
Avenue mansion. I want you to tell me what you 
think of society people, Jack.” 

Jack was very attentive, siding strongly with the 
transplanted farmer against the curt and shallow re- 
torts of his hostess and her guests. 

“ Well, what do you think of it ? ” Harvey asked, 
as the curtain went down. 

“ If society people are like that, I don’t want any 
society in mine,” said Jack, positively. “ I hope he 
finds his son, anyhow.” 

The next act showed the exterior of Grace Church 
at night, and was both laughable and sad ; for in it 
the farmer not only “ squares up ” to a Bowery tough, 
attacks a letter-carrier, and meets Happy Jack, who 
is scarcely recognisable in his gorgeous evening array, 
but recovers possession of his long-lost son, — all this 
on thirty feet of sidewalk. In the last act much 
amusement was afforded by the antics of two aged 
rustics in a country kitchen, and by the appearance 
of other droll rustics and the country fiddler. The 
son and Happy Jack, who have become fast friends, 
arrive soon after, and preparations are made for a 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


93 


lively time. The aged farmer is very happy, and, as 
the curtain falls, he gently admonishes the audience 
to forbear with the wayward lads, and give them a 
chance. 

“It was great!” exclaimed Jack, as they rose to 
go. “ It’s the best play I ever sarvv, Harve,” he 
added, with boyish frankness. 

They were soon aboard a car, much pleased with 
their evening out. Jack hurried home, but did not 
rest well, for he had begun to have a wholesome fear 
of Jasper Billings ; and, though he could not charge 
the man with anything but rude and insulting lan- 
guage on several occasions, this fear was gradually 
increasing. It was hard to explain. Harvey had at 
first attributed it to the man’s looks, which were cer- 
tainly not in his favour ; but a moment after had 
confessed that he had encountered Billings in a 
pawn-shop. 

Now Harvey had once outlined pawnbrokers’ 
methods to Jack, who had, accordingly, formed the 
opinion that they were a class of men of little bene- 
fit to the community, to be let severely alone. Their 
very excessive rates of interest, though lawful, were 
sufficient to condemn them. Some were known to 
deal largely with the criminal element, and to be 
absolutely devoid of honour. As a class, they were 
looked down upon, and Jack reasoned that only in 
exceptional instances should they be patronised by 
thrifty people. The boy had been taught the great 


94 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


value of economy, a lesson which once learned is 
not easily forgotten, and believed in keeping out 
of debt. It seemed strange that a man in Billings’s 
position should be pushed to such straits financially ; 
but, if he was disposed to speculate, as Harvey be- 
lieved, and spent large sums on his clothes, he 
would soon be living beyond his income, and would, 
therefore, be forced to raise money on personal prop- 
erty. 

Next morning Jack arose as usual and hurried to 
the office. Joe Doyle was endeavouring to answer a 
telephone call, but without much success, for he was 
fairly shouting into the transmitter, and had forgotten 
to put the receiver to his ear, much as he had seen 
the instrument used. The puzzled expression van- 
ished and his face lighted up as Jack entered. 

“ I can’t make him hear me at all, at all,” said Joe, 
motioning for Jack to take his place. “ Begorra, he 
must be a long way off.” 

Jack smiled as he took the receiver. 

“Who is this? Mr. Billings? Yes, this is me,” 
said Jack, forgetting his grammar in his vexation. 
“Can I call this morning? Yes, I think so. Any 
time before ten ? All right,” and he rung off with- 
out further ado. “It’s Mr. Billings,” he explained, 
brushing away a stray lock of hair and a frown at the 
same time. 

“Faith, I thought it was some one in County 
Dundee,” said Joe, with a dismal frown. “ It’s quite 


JACK DISAPPEARS 95 

a particular thing to talk through a wire, ain’t it, 
hey ? 

“Nothing simpler,” replied Jack, beginning to sort 
the mail. “How long was he ringing, Joe?” 

“ Sure, ever since I come in about an hour ago. I 
got tired of his blessed ting-a-ling-ling, and gave him 
a round just for luck. What’s the trouble with him, 
anyhow ? He’s either sick or he ain’t got to bed 
yet. He never got up this early, not on your 
natural ! ” 

Jack ventured no reply, for he considered it bad 
policy to discuss the steward with the shrewd Irish- 
man, much as he should have liked to have heard the 
janitor’s reasons for his last remark. Harvey came 
in soon after, then McPherson. In a short while the 
route-books were made up. 

“I’ve got to call at Colonel Vreeland’s,” Jack said 
to Harvey, as the latter stood waiting for a car. 
“Billings must be in a stew, for he first telephoned 
for me about seven o’clock. I’ll see you again to- 
night, old man.” 

“Well, so long, — hold your end up,” answered 
Harvey, with a wave of his hand from the rear plat- 
form. 

Jack stood watching the retreating car, undecided 
which way to start on his day’s work. Should he go 
at once to the steward, or should he put it off until 
later? He finally decided to first visit the mansion, 
for his fear and dislike of Mr. Billings were largely 


9 6 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

overcome by a very natural curiosity. What could 
the man desire to see him for so early in the day ? 
what absurd errand would he order executed ? Would 
he be as irascible as usual, or would he be sweet- 
tempered and oily ? These were some of the ques- 
tions that Jack asked himself as he hurried along the 
avenue, determined to “ hold his end up,” as Harvey 
had expressed it and yet fully resolved to keep his 
temper and appear civil. But he might have spared 
himself any worry on the subject, for, to his unalloyed 
surprise, he found Mr. Billings as genial as a May 
morning. The steward even answered the bell him- 
self, and stood bowing as Jack walked in, too non- 
plussed to speak. 

“Come right in,” he began, as Frazer hurried up 
to close the door. “ Be seated — take the easy-chair, 
by all means. You chaps must have a lot of walking 
to do, up-stairs and down-stairs all day long. I often 
pity you,” and Billings assumed a pathetic air that 
fairly made Jack’s lip curl. 

“We manage to survive,” said he, curtly. 

“Ah, but the fact remains that you do a lot of 
climbing,” continued the steward, cleverly ignoring 
the boy’s manner. He looked through two packages 
of letters, finally extracting a rather small envelope 
from the top of a third package. From this envel- 
ope he drew out a sheet of note-paper, which he 
appeared to peruse with deep interest. He had care- 
lessly left the envelope under Jack’s very nose, and 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


97 


the boy could not resist the temptation of reading the 
superscription, which was in a cultivated handwriting, 
distinctly feminine, and addressed to Jasper Billings, 
Esq., 698 Fifth Avenue, New York City. It was 
postmarked Lakewood, N. J., and contained a special 
delivery stamp in addition to the regular postage. 

“I received this letter from Mrs. Vreeland last 
evening,” he explained. “ She wishes some things 
sent to her, and I have decided to get them ready to- 
day and send them down on the evening train. I 
shall therefore have to ask you to be ready to leave 
here at five o’clock this afternoon. That is why I 
wanted to see you early, that you may have time to 
prepare. It is not a long journey,” he added, lightly, 
“and you can take an early train back to-morrow 
morning. If Mackay objects, say that Mrs. Vree- 
land’s letter is quite positive,” and Billings moved 
uneasily in his chair as he re-read it. 

Jack was highly pleased at the prospect, and began 
to accuse himself and Harvey of all sorts of mean- 
ness in discussing the steward’s private affairs as 
they had done the evening before. The man was no 
doubt overworked, as he had once told him, and had 
an inordinate fondness for horsy clothes, which was 
certainly no great crime. He had generally been 
irritable, it was true, and sometimes insulting ; and 
he had pawned his ring, which was his own business. 
Why, then, should they have criticised him as they 
had done? Jack asked himself this question as he 


9 8 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


sat looking at the pattern of the rug, conscious that 
the steward was studying his mood. 

“ I’ll be here,” said Jack, thoughtfully, rising to his 
feet. “ Mr. Billings,” he added, frankly, “ I am sorry 
if I sometimes appear rude. If you would treat me 
on all occasions with the courtesy that you have 
shown this morning, I am sure we should get on 
better in our business relations. I am too young to 
overlook certain phrases you applied to me last month 
without an apology, and I am too old to forget them 
after one.” 

Billings gasped and sank back in his chair, utterly 
taken aback by the lad’s spirit. “ Why, my dear 
boy,” said he, in an injured tone, “ I don’t remember 
any such speeches ; but if I made them, — I some- 
times do say wild and woolly things, perhaps, — why, 
I most sincerely ask your pardon.” 

In turn, Jack was dumbfounded. It was a hard 
thing to associate the words with the Jasper Billings 
he and Harvey had discussed. 

“ Thank you. Your apology is accepted. Is there 
anything more ? ” 

“No, I think not,” said the steward, undecidedly. 
“ By the way, the colonel’s unmarried sister, who is 
stopping with Miss Edna and her grandmother, now 
that Mrs. Vreeland and her husband are out of town, 
asked me to hand you this note when you came up 
again. I have had it in my pocket for several days, 
as you have not been here.” 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


99 


“ I am very much obliged,” said Jack, concealing 
his interest under a grave demeanour. “ Good morn- 
ing.’ ’ He put the letter in his pocket and walked 
out. 

“ It’s almost a shame,” thought Billings, as he 
heard the door close. “ He’s not a bad boy, he 
ain’t, and just about as smart as they’re made,” 
and Billings chuckled to himself as he recalled the 
interview. “ I wonder what in thunder was in that 
note.” 

Jack must have been just as curious, for he turned 
into the first side street and cut the envelope. 

“ Dear Mr. Benham,” he read, “truth is certainly 
stranger than fiction, for Edna tells us that she is 
indebted to you for her miraculous escape in the 
park last month. You must not think that we are 
ungrateful, or that we made no efforts to get your 
name of the park authorities. We also can readily 
understand your position, but trust that you will not 
feel disinclined to accept the enclosed invitation to a 
small party for next Monday evening, as we shall 
consider the affair a failure unless you decide to 
attend. Edna’s friend, Miss Runyon, desires espe- 
cially to thank you, as she blames herself for her 
silence on that thrilling occasion. Mr. Mackay kindly 
gave me your name, but as he had not your home 
address with him, I will give this to Mr. Billings to 
deliver to you. With very best wishes, believe me, 
in all sincerity, Gertrude Vreeland.” 


L.ofC. 


IOO 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


Jack flushed with pride, and drew out the engraved 
card. 

“Of course I’ll go,” he soliloquised, feeling that 
this kind of thanks would not come amiss. “That’s 
a good, sensible note, and I believe it’s sincere. 
Yes, I’ll go.” 

He hurried along his collections, reaching home 
about four o’clock, having in the meantime seen Mr. 
Forbes, and turned in his cash. His mother and 
sister were there, toasting themselves before a cheer- 
ful grate fire, for a drizzling rain had begun to fall 
at noon, and the air was cold. Jack displayed the 
note and invitation with boyish good humour. 

“I’ll just answer at once,” said he, sitting down at 
his mother’s desk and picking up a pen. “ How 
shall I begin, mommy ? ” 

“You must choose your own words,” answered 
his mother, amused at Jack’s air of indecision. 

“Say you’ll go, Jack,” urged Daisy, much im- 
pressed with the engraved card. 

“All right,” and Jack began at once, and did not 
stop writing until he had finished the acceptance, and 
had directed an envelope. “ That ought to do,” he 
concluded, passing the sheet to his mother. 

“Very good,” was the assuring comment, as she 
read down the page. “Very like you, son.” 

“ Well, that’s done,” said Jack, as if much relieved. 
“Now, mommy, if you’ve got a cold bite in the 
house, trot it out, for I’m off for the night. Daisy, 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


IOI 


you pack my things in the little valise, and don’t 
forget my tooth-brush.” 

“ Why, Jack Benham ! are you crazy ? ” 

“ No, mommy. I’ve got to go down to Lakewood 
with some things for Mrs. Vreeland, that’s all,” 
answered Jack, seating himself at the bare board. 

“ They must be for the opening ball at Carolina 
Court to-morrow night,” said Mrs. Benham, reflect- 
ively. “ We have an article on it in to-morrow’s 
paper.” 

“I don’t know,” said Jack, “and I haven’t got 
much time. It’s four-fifteen now, and I ought to be 
at Colonel Vreeland’s at quarter to five.” 

“ We must hurry, then,” said Mrs. Benham, putting 
on some dishes, and going to the refrigerator. 

Jack was soon engaged with a piece of cold beef- 
steak, bread and butter, and a cup of tea. He ate 
quickly, finishing his modest meal as Daisy com- 
pleted the packing of the hand satchel. Five min- 
utes later he was on his way to Colonel Vreeland’s. 
He had donned his mackintosh, for a nasty southeast 
wind was blowing. It was misty, and fast darken- 
ing. There were few people on the avenue for that 
hour, though the number of coaches, broughams, and 
automobiles, rumbling along on their rubber tires in 
a very luxurious way, was unusually large. 

The butler admitted Jack, who went at once to 
the library, where he found the steward seated at his 
desk, glancing over an evening extra. There was an 


102 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


unlighted cigar between his teeth, and the generally 
fair complexion was on the rosy order. His mood of 
the morning had changed to a certain degree, though 
he was still affable and chatty, sociably offering a 
chair as the lad entered. As Jack threw off his coat 
he began to attribute this change of manner to the 
invitation, supposing of course that the steward had 
easily guessed the contents of the note. His former 
opinion of the man began to return as a consequence, 
but he had little time for reflection, as Billings began 
at once with the business in hand. 

“ Perhaps you do not know,” said he, crossing his 
legs and striking a match, “ that there is to be a 
grand ball at Carolina Court to-morrow night.” 

“I heard so to-day,” answered Jack, briefly. 

‘‘Mrs. Vreeland will attend, of course. Many 
society people have gone down already, and many 
more will leave the city to-night. The Whartons 
are very anxious to make this a gala week, and 
have arranged a series of private theatricals in con- 
nection with the ball.” The steward paused, evidently 
expecting some comment from Jack; but as the lad 
did not reply, he continued again, speaking casually 
from behind a cloud of smoke. “ Mrs. Vreeland 
desires her jewels sent to her, as it is impossible 
to say what trinkets she may wish to wear in the 
theatricals. She is a very handsome woman, you 
know, as well as highly popular. ” 

Jack began to prick up his ears. “Jewels!” he 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


103 


soliloquised, eyeing the steward keenly. He felt his 
blood rising, he could not say why, for the man’s 
story was certainly straightforward and plausible. 
“ Are there many, Mr. Billings ? ” 

“Why, just an ordinary casket,” replied the stew- 
ard, flicking the ashes from his cigar. “ She would 
have taken them with her, but they were at Frost 
and Starr’s at the time.” 

“ Perhaps you should have chosen an older mes- 
senger,” suggested Jack, feeling oddly ill at ease, 
and, notwithstanding the apparent good faith of his 
superior, unaccountably suspicious. 

“ Nonsense, my boy. Why, Colonel Vreeland told 
me before leaving that he had seen Mr. Mackay about 
you, and that you would hereafter be at my disposal 
for all errands connected with business or household 
matters of any kind — I don’t mean an errand boy, 
mind you, but a trusted messenger,” and the steward 
smiled genially as he put down the cigar and glanced at 
his watch. “ It is now quarter-past five, one hour and a 
half before train time. Have you had your dinner ? ” 
Jack answered in the affirmative. 

“Then I will deliver the valise to you at once. 
Here is a note for Mrs. Vreeland, here are the keys, 
and here is money for travelling expenses.” He 
placed an unsealed, directed envelope, two small 
flat keys, and a crisp bank-note on the edge of the 
desk. Jack pocketed the articles. “You will find 
the Vreelands at the Farnsworth Cottage,” he ex- 


104 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


plained. “ There are several trains back to-morrow 
morning,” he continued, going to a large safe that 
was entirely boxed with carved woodwork, thus out- 
wardly resembling a curio cabinet, which Jack had 
always taken it to be. “ If Colonel Vreeland doesn’t 
offer to detain you, take an early one and report to 
me before returning to the office.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Jack, as the steward began work- 
ing on the combination. 

Jack presently heard the lock catch and saw the 
massive door swing back. Billings reached in and 
got a small, well-worn valise of heavy leather. He 
closed the safe door immediately, and then the wooden 
doors, after which he picked up the satchel and got 
upon his feet. “ Here they are,” said he, crossing 
the room and placing the bag on the desk. 

Jack glared at him, for the man’s eyes flatly con- 
tradicted his every action ; they fairly danced about 
in his rosy face, never resting on anything, and yet 
noting everything. Jack felt instinctively that some 
villainy was on foot, but vainly racked his brain for a 
clue to what it could be. Conscious that Billings 
was again studying his mood, he caught up his 
mackintosh and rose abruptly. “ I’m ready,” said 
he, laconically, taking the valises and stepping toward 
the door. 

“ You’d better take a cab to the ferry,” advised the 
steward, going over to the window. “ It’s a nasty 
night, and the cars will be crowded at this hour.” 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


105 


“ I will,” said Jack, as he reached the portieres, 
where he stopped short. “ Mr. Billings,” said he, 
speaking out of a brown study, “ how do I know this 
bag contains a single gem ? ” 

“Why, what an extraordinary suspicion!” ex- 
claimed the steward, with a bland smile. 

“It may be extraordinary, as you say, but it is 
certainly quite natural,” answered Jack, unwilling to 
be smiled down. 

“ Why, my dear boy, do you know what you’re 
saying ? You’re accusing me of a serious crime, and 
are taking a mean advantage of your youth. Some 
men would be tempted to knock you down for such 
an insinuation, nevertheless.” 

It was very well done, but still Jack stood firm. 

“ I cannot help that,” said he, sturdily. “ If the 
jewels are here, and these are the keys, open the bag 
and let me see them before I start.” 

“Would you know real stones from clever imita- 
tions ? ” asked the steward, with the same bland smile. 

“ I think I would.” 

“Then you shall see them,” and he motioned the 
boy toward the desk with an affected flourish of his 
soft white hand, after which he proceeded to close the 
shutters of one window and the upper shutters of the 
other. He next took the keys and opened the satchel, 
from which he took out a jewel-box of embossed 
leather, which had been deftly painted in oil-colours 
of a dull hue. The casket he opened with the 


io 6 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


smaller key. As he lifted the cover Jack felt that 
he was fairly beaten, for never before had he seen 
such a dazzling array of precious stones in the hands 
of an individual. 

The box was lined with soft blue satin, and there 
was an exquisite painting on the inside of the lid. A 
deep tray filled the upper half of the casket, and was 
divided into three compartments, which were fairly 
brimming with tiny watches, rings, -bracelets, brooches, 
and sunbursts. Inexperienced as he was, Jack saw 
at a glance that the stones were of the first quality : 
the diamonds white or blue white, and very fiery, the 
opals large and lustrous, the sapphires dark blue ; 
there was a carved bracelet of a dull gold finish set 
with twelve pigeon-blood rubies as large as peas ; 
several beautiful marquise rings set with turquoises 
and diamonds ; two magnificent diamond sun- 
bursts, and one five-inch crescent ; five solitaire rings, 
hoop and cluster rings in profusion, hair ornaments 
and stick-pins in every conceivable design ; a second 
bracelet was set with brown diamonds and contained 
a tiny oval-shaped watch in the centre ; a third was 
set with emeralds. 

“ Don’t be afraid — have a good look,” said Bill- 
ings, as Jack sat staring at the bewildering glitter. 
“ Are you satisfied, my boy ?” 

“ Fully, sir. The gems are superb.” 

“Here is a .nice little trinket,” continued the 
steward, lifting the tray and taking out a string of 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


IQ/ 


pearls from the lower compartment. “ This is known 
as the Vreeland rope of pearls : one hundred and 
eighty-six oriental pearls, costing over thirty thou- 
sand dollars; it took three years to match them — 
aren’t they beauties ? ” Billings held up the string 
to the light, regarding it with the air of a connois- 
seur, and Jack noticed that for once his gaze did not 
wander. 

“ Indeed they are beauties,” said he, feeling that 
he now owed the steward a thorough retraction. 
“ Mr. Billings, I humbly beg your pardon, and 
acknowledge that my suspicions were entirely un- 
founded.” 

The steward fairly grinned at the words. “ I un- 
derstand your position,” said he, meeting the boy 
half-way, “and accept the apology.” He handed 
Jack the valise, saying affably as he did so, “I’ll 
expect you to-morrow, then. Good luck.” 

As Jack went out, a satchel in each hand, Billings 
hurried to the north window and closed the two re- 
maining shutters. Jack did not notice this when he 
reached the pavement, for it was raining hard, and 
he had other things to think about. He was badly 
jostled by a stout lady, which ruffled him somewhat, 
as he was not in the best of • tempers after his meet- 
ing with the steward — he never was. He went on 
down the street a few steps and drew up at the curb. 

“ Cab, sir ? ” 

He looked in the direction of the voice and made 


io8 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


out a white horse and a coupe. The driver seemed 
to be well hidden by a rubber cape, but, on coming 
nearer, Jack made out the outlines of his head. The 
license numbers were plainly visible across the face 
of the lamps, the coupe was rubber-tired and fairly 
new, and altogether must have struck the lad as 
satisfactory, for he answered : 

“ What will you take me to the Desbrosses Street 
ferry for ? ” 

“ One dollar, boss.” 

“ All right,” said Jack, opening the door, and step- 
ping in. The cab started off at once, turning into 
a side street soon after. Jack unconsciously kept a 
tight hold of the satchels, for he had been under 
considerable excitement. The casket of jewels was 
uppermost in his mind, though he reproached him- 
self bitterly for his seemingly unjust attitude toward 
the steward. “ I’ll never say another word against 
him,” he vowed, wholly unaware that the vehicle had 
already crossed Seventh Avenue. 

They were now bowling swiftly along through a 
dark street, lined on either side with private and 
public livery-stables of all sorts. The occasional 
flickering yellow lights seemed only to intensify the 
darkness rather, than to lighten the gloom. The 
street was practically deserted, though once or twice 
Jack caught a glimpse of some bent and hurrying 
figure. When the cab was well down the block, the 
driver turned the horse sharply to the left. Before 


JACK DISAPPEARS 


109 


the boy could realise the situation, the horse, struck 
by the whip, had bounded across the sidewalk into 
a pitchy darkness. Jack heard a low, quick rumbling 
as the stable doors closed behind him like the jaws 
of some great mammal. 

“ O God ! ” he cried, as the driver jumped from his 
box. He flung open the left door and stepped out, 
still holding fast to the treasure. As he did so he 
caught just a glimpse of a dark lantern, and heard 
the whir of a rope-end. 

“That were well done, Chub,” said an excited 
voice, as Jack sank unconscious to the floor. “You 
hit him a good one, and he went down like a shot 
rabbit.” 



“FRENCHY/ 


CHAPTER VII. 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS 


S Jack sank to the stable floor 
beneath the cowardly blow, 
Chub Colwell drew the slide 
of a dark lantern, which he 
turned full upon the lad’s 
white face, then flashed the 
rays over the outstretched 
form. 

“ Wonder in which of these 
here bags Dick’s put the haul,” 

CHUB COLWELL. , i i 

said he, picking up the satchels 
and shaking them. “ Reckon it’s in this,” he added, 
fumbling at the lock of the heavier. 

“Cheese it,” admonished Frenchy, throwing a 
blanket over the steaming horse. “ Dick said to 
chuck the bag under the bunch of straw in the box- 
stall till he showed up ; he’ll be here afore eight, he 
said.” 



“I don’t care for Dick Bolden,” growled Colwell, 
“and I don’t trust him, neither. Who’s got a better 
right to these here stones than you and me, Frenchy ? 
no 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS I I I 

I asks you that afore Dick shows up, and you’d better 
think it over. What’s Dick Bolden ever done for 
you and me, huh ? ” 

Frenchy pulled nervously at bis imperial. 

“ He’s too smooth for the likes of us, Chub. He’d 
turn state’s evidence or some other queer dido, and 
’fore we knew it, we’d be doin’ time ag’in. Get that 
notion out of your think-box, Chub, ’cause they’s 
stones enough to make us all rich.” 

“ But we done all the work,” argued Chub, in a 
hoarse whisper that made the younger man wince. 
“ We can leave the youngster and the rig for Dick, 
slip down to the Sallie , hoist the mud-hook and stand 
down the Jersey coast. Dick won’t dare open his 
head about this job, jest bank on that.” 

“ We ain’t done all the work,” replied Frenchy, 
who had great confidence in the nefarious steward. 
“ It w£s Dick’s plan from the go-off, and it’s carried 
like he allowed it would. He’s took big chances 
with a good job, hired this here barn and outfit, and 
is the only one in the gang that can turn the haul 
into cash. Stick together, says I,” and Frenchy 
passed a plug of tobacco to his comrade as a peace- 
offering. 

Colwell bit off a piece and handed it back. 

“ That’s a strong kind of an argyment, Frenchy, 
but you disremember that Dick never come near us 
till he wanted help — somebody to do the dirty 
work,” and Chub went over to where poor Jack lay 


I 12 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


so white and still. “ He’s a purty lad, too. I dare 
say his mammy’ll be clean took off her pins by the 
wickedness of her noble son — huh ? ” 

“There’s bound to be a big fuss. That’s why we 
want to hang together and die hard. Dick’s plan is 
the slickest, and when he gets around you’d best not 
have no argyments with him. Dick’s awful mean 
when there’s anything doin’ ; you don’t forget how 
he knocked Tifty Bates clean out of the boat with a 
pistol-butt that night at Irvington, do you ? ” 

Colwell stroked his great black beard reflectively. 
“ Not quite, I don’t,” said he, slipping the dark lan- 
tern under his arm as three brisk knocks were heard 
at the side door. 

“That’ll be Dick,” said Frenchy, unbolting and 
unlocking the door that opened on the narrow hall 
leading to the coachman’s apartments above, for it 
was a small private stable they were in. 

Frenchy tiptoed to the outer door and rapped five 
times, which signal was answered by two quick re- 
turn raps. The door was accordingly opened, and 
in walked Richard Bolden, alias Jasper Billings, 
steward and private secretary for Col. Henry T. 
Vreeland. He wore a heavy false beard and mous- 
tache, spectacles, and a high silk hat, which so altered 
his appearance that, in the dim light shed by the car- 
riage lamps, Colwell was inclined to doubt his eyes. 
But the familiar voice soon reassured him. 

“ Everything O. K. ? ” he asked, nervously. 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS I I 3 

“Sure,” said Frenchy, pointing to the figure on 
the floor. “ Chub, he’s got the bag.” 

“Give it here,” demanded Billings, eagerly, and 
Colwell reluctantly handed it over. “Now get that 
lad into the carriage, and we’ll start for the river. 
Chub, you get on the box this time, and put that 
black rubber hood and blanket over the nag. Frenchy, 
take off the license numbers and give them to me.” 

The miscreants accordingly lifted Jack into the 
coupe, where he settled back into a corner with a 
stifled moan. Colwell then blanketed the horse as 
directed, while Billings made a very careful search 
of the stable interior. Having picked up Jack’s bag 
and Colwell’s lantern, and taken the stable keys from 
Frenchy, he opened the sliding doors and backed the 
horse out, for Colwell was a poor hand at such work. 
There was not a soul in the street, for it was raining 
in torrents. Before leaving the building, the stew- 
ard locked each door carefully, after which he joined 
Frenchy in the carriage. Chub whipped up at once. 

“ How many times did Chub hit him ? ” asked 
Billings, guardedly. 

“ Once.” 

“ No noise ? ” 

“ Not a whimper, Dick.” 

“Good. He’d come around now for a leetle water 
in the face. There’s quite a swelling there already,” 
said Billings, feeling of a good-sized lump above the 
boy’s ear. He next went through Jack’s pockets, 


I 14 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

taking the keys to the satchels, his money, and his 
watch and chain. 

“ It were only a rope-end, and Chub’s a master 
with that,” replied Frenchy, -when the steward had 
finished plucking the unconscious lad. “ Is it a neat 
haul, Dick?” 

“ Nobby. It’ll go two thousand apiece,” whispered 
Billings, encouragingly. 

“ I think Chub is gettin’ a case of cold feet,” con- 
fided Frenchy, as the cab rattled across Broadway. 
“You’d better stake him good afore you back off. 
It’ll please him and keep the old woman good- 
natured.” 

“ I’ll fix that. Don’t you let any one go near the 
lad with a light, mind you. He’s smart as a streak 
of red paint, and will send Chub’s woman into fits if 
he gets a chance to tell his lingo. Give them any 
fairy tale you like, Frenchy, only don’t make a mess 
of the job now.” 

“ No fear of that, Dick. I’ve done a sight of 
thinkin’ since that mess at Irvington. Chub’s got 
the sand, too. We’ll see your orders through, Dick, 
you can lay to it.” 

“ I hope so,” said Billings, as the cab swept down 
Park Avenue to a crossing. “ You’d better take a 
turn around the island when you’ve dropped the lad 
off. When you throw out your mud-hook off Casey’s 
Point again, lay low for a few days, and some night 
I’ll slip over and see you. Be careful when you 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS I I 5 

bring him on deck ; don’t let him hear your voices, 
and be sure he’s well blindfolded. Do you think he 
knew the street he was in last ? ” 

“He might have,” admitted Frenchy, “though I 
sent the old plug along for fair. It ain’t likely he 
could read the lamp-posts in the rain.” 

“Well, here we are near the pier,” said Billings, 
peering through the storm. He dropped the window 
and spoke to Chub, who reined in the horse at the 
next corner. Frenchy remained with the stricken 
lad, while Billings, still clinging to the treasure, went 
on to reconnoitre. He advanced boldly toward the 
pier, where a gang of lightermen were loading a great 
vessel with sawn timber. There was abundant space 
for a carriage in the centre passage, and Billings also 
noticed that at the farther end the dock was but 
dimly lighted. Apparently satisfied with his brief 
survey, he hurried back to the cab, for he was greatly 
excited over the success of his villainy, and began to 
feel that the most difficult and dangerous part of his 
operations was about to take place ; for he feared 
that the cab might arouse the curiosity of the night 
watchman, or that a stray policeman might be tempted 
to speak them. 

“If any one stops you, tell him that I’m taking a 
friend aboard,” were his rather indefinite instructions 
to Colwell. “ Did you leave the dory ready ? ” 

“ She’ll need bailin’,” said Chub, in a thick voice. 
“ I’ll bet she’s half full by this time.” 


I 1 6 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

“That’s easy. Here, Chub,” and Billings handed 
up a little roll of bills. “You’ll have to take the 
youngster when we get down at the stringpiece, 
Chub. Don’t lose any time when I give the word, 
and don’t hurry the nag.” 

Billings reentered the vehicle and closed the door. 
Colwell started the horse on a walk, and in less than 
five minutes had turned into the plank driveway 
between two great piles of lumber. The appearance 
of an ordinary cab occasioned no comment, and as 
the end of the pier was practically deserted, the three 
scoundrels began to gain fresh courage. Chub drew 
up at the very end of the wharf, and Billings stepped 
out, Frenchy following. 

“She don’t need no bailin’,” said Frenchy, peering 
down at the dory. “ She swung under the dock with 
the tide, and she’s as dry as a bone.” 

“ All right. Get down and hold her for Chub. 
Chub, you throw the youngster over your shoulder 
and keep the rain off his face or he’ll be making you 
trouble.” 

The burly Colwell grasped Jack by the collar and 
fairly lifted him out with one arm. He next placed 
the limp form across his shoulder like a sack of meal, 
and without a perceptible pause started down the 
ladder, taking his seat in the stern. Frenchy bent to 
the oars, for the sea was very choppy, and for a few 
moments the little boat made bad weather of it. 
Frenchy kept glancing over his shoulder as if to 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS II 7 

make sure of his direction, finally settling into a 
good, steady stroke that carried the dory away from 
the piles. 

“So long, mates,” called Billings, as the dory 
faded into nothingness ; but as no answer came 
back through the wind and rain, Billings turned his 
attention to the interior of the cab with a chuckle of 
satisfaction. He immediately struck a match in a 
search for telltale articles that might have been 
dropped in the ride over, but finding none, mounted 
the box, and with the valises firmly stored between 
his legs, backed up and turned the horse’s head for 
the street. He drove rapidly southward, and was 
soon approaching Madison Square. He halted long 
enough in a dark side street to readjust the license 
numbers, after which he continued down Fifth Av- 
enue at a slow walk until a short, slight figure in a 
shiny rubber coat stepped out of the park and took 
the horse by the head. Billings got down from the 
box and handed the man three gold coins. Neither 
spoke a word, for the steward turned abruptly on his 
heel and started up the avenue again, a satchel in 
each hand. 

Frenchy’s admirable oarsmanship, aided by the 
friendly assistance of a single light in the port 
shrouds of the Sallie Harkness , soon brought the 
dory alongside the schooner. Colwell must have 
anticipated some trouble with his wife, for he was 
sullen and ugly as he climbed on deck with his 


I 1 8 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

burden. Frenchy, who had in the meanwhile lighted 
a lantern, now led the way toward the forecastle, 
which boasted four berths, two on a side. It was a 
small, V-shaped room, low and stuffy, and for some 
years had been used chiefly as a storage room. Into 
the lower starboard berth Jack was tumbled without 
ceremony. Frenchy held the light to the lad’s head, 
saying as he did so ': 

“ You’d better turn some water on him, Chub. 
He ain’t near begun to pick up.” 

“You go and get a pan of the old woman,” said 
Chub, as he began to count the roll of bills the 
steward had handed him. “You tell her we’ve got 
an unreasonable young pup here, and that his daddy 
wants us to beat a little sea sense into him,” contin- 
ued Chub, getting facetious as the notes ran higher. 
“ Say that Chudden Colwell, master of the Sallie 
Harkness, has shipped a crew of one,” and with a 
coarse laugh he sat down on the edge of the bunk 
and began fumbling for a pipe. 

Frenchy accordingly hurried aft and knocked at the 
cabin door. “Mis’ Colwell,” said he, entering before 
the woman could reply, “ Chub, he wants a pan for 
to catch some water in.” 

“ And where is Chub ? ” inquired the woman, 
coldly, for she was a good woman at heart, and had 
deserved a better mate than the iniquitous Colwell. 
She disliked Frenchy intensely, and the man knew it, 
though he was too clever to openly resent her attitude. 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS I 19 

“ In the fo’castle, mum,” he answered, promptly. 

“ What’s he doin’ there ? ” she demanded, angrily. 

“ He’s got a youngster what’s goin’ to make a 
sailorman, and Chub’s give him the first lesson 
already,” explained Frenchy, thinking it best to pave 
the way for the inevitable scene. 

“With a rope-end or a handspike, I’ll warrant,” 
and the woman rose from her seat by the stove 
and folded her arms, as if to suppress a smoulder- 
ing rage. “ I know it’s one of your dirty jobs, 
Deschamps. I wish to heaven you’d keep away 
from my man ; he’s bad enough as it is, God 
knows, but a sight of you turns his head complete. 
Now you tell me what’s what, or I’ll have the 
coppers aboard afore the dawn of another day.” 
She crossed the cabin in three swift strides, and 
grasped the little man by the collar. “Tell me!” 
she cried, shaking the cowering form with all her 
strength. 

“ It’s on the level, Mis’ Colwell,” protested Frenchy, 
surprised out of his senses. “His governor’s give 
the kid over to Chub for awhile, ’cause he’s a wild 
’un, and they can’t keep him home — see?” 

“I don’t believe you ! ” she screamed, releasing her 
hold, and pointing toward the door. “Tell Chudden 
to come here ; I want to see him.” 

“He’s took up with the youngster, but- I’ll send 
him in, Mis’ Colwell,” was the obsequious reply. 

“ What’s the matter with the old hag ? ” demanded 


120 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


the skipper, as Frenchy joined him in the forecastle. 
“What in thunder ails her, anyhow?” 

Frenchy gave vent to a string of hideous invec- 
tives. “ She’s bound to have a word with you, 
Chub,” he concluded, when he had spent his rage. 

“ And where’s the pan and water, you double- 
distilled idiot ? ” 

“ She wouldn’t give me none, and she’s dead sore 
on the whole job. Say, send her ashore for some 
grub, so’s we can get the kid around.” 

“ He ain’t doin’ no good,” said Chub, who was 
steadily becoming alarmed over Jack’s condition. 
“ He’s been a-moanin’ like a Novemby gale.” 

“ Chudden ! Chudden Colwell ! ” 

“There she is now,” said Frenchy, hearkening to 
the irate voice. “You go and give her a song and 
dance, Chub ; she’ll believe you.” 

Colwell lighted his pipe, and stepped up into the 
rain. The familiar silhouette of his better half in 
the cabin doorway somewhat unnerved him ; but, 
gathering all his courage, he crossed the deck, and 
entered the room with a great swagger. 

“ Look here, old woman, I don’t want you to get 
guffy — see ? Just hand me out a pail of water and 
a rag. I won’t listen to no argyments, now, or I’ll 
take a rope-end to you, and don’t you doubt it.” 

The poor woman glared entreatingly at the great 
bully before her. “ Chudden,” she began, but he 
cut her short with an insulting leer. 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS 


12 I 


“ Get a move on,” he muttered, advancing with 
clinched fists, at which the woman hurried to a sea- 
chest, and took out a small linen cloth. She next 
went to the cupboard and got an ordinary lard pail, 
which she filled from a bucket in the sink. Colwell 
took them with an oath, and hurried back to the fore- 
castle. Frenchy had hung the lantern, which shed 
a flickering, ghastly light on the boy’s upturned face. 
Colwell soused the linen and handed it to Frenchy, 
who applied it at once to the forehead. The effect 
was magical, for Jack moaned audibly, and began 
moving his arms. 

“ Give him a dip in the face,” said Chub, with a 
fiendish grin. “He ain’t clean gone yet.” 

Frenchy held the pail close to Jack’s shoulder, and 
began splashing the water on the boy’s face. 

“That’ll do it,” said he, as Jack rolled on to his 
side and opened his eyes. Colwell blew out the light 
immediately. 

Jack struggled manfully to raise himself on his 
shoulder, but fell back again upon the straw. 
“ Water ! ” he gasped. 

Frenchy lifted his head and held the pail to his 
lips, but the boy could not swallow. Frenchy there- 
fore poured a little water into Jack’s mouth, which 
caused him to gasp and gulp by turns. He finally 
settled back and fell into a long restful sleep, from 
which he was awakened some time in the middle of 
the night by a small hand passing over his face. The 


22 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


frightful buzzing and intense pain he had been dimly 
conscious of on his first awakening were now gone ; 
but, for all that, it was impossible for him to realise his 
situation, or to recall the early events of the evening. 
He must have been a little feverish, too, for, as soon 
as he made out the hazy outlines of a child at his 
side, he asked again for water. 

The little girl crowded a soft pillow under his 
shoulders, and held a tin cup to his lips. This time 
Jack swallowed without much effort, and the cool 
draught seemed to do him good ; for, after peering 
about the strange, dimly lighted interior, he turned 
toward the child with dilated eyes. 

“Where am I?” he asked, utterly bewildered by 
the unaccountable presence of the girl, the low, 
arching roof, and the coils of rope that dangled from 
the crosspieces like so many ugly serpents. 

“ You’re on board dad’s ship,” whispered the child. 
“ Didn’t you know that ? ” 

“Do you mean to say — ” and poor Jack paused 
and twitched, as if to rouse himself from a very bad 
dream. 

“Yes, you’re aboard dad’s schooner,” repeated the 
girl, “and I’ve brought you a bowl of soup. Ain’t 
you hungry ? ” 

“ Not very. I have such a queer feeling in my 
head.” 

“ Let me feed you a little,” pleaded the child. 
“ Mamma made it for you as soon as the men got 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS 


23 


drunk — dad’s awful drunk. What makes you such 
a wicked boy ? ” 

“I’m not wicked,” said Jack. “Did Billings tell 
you that ? ” 

“ Who’s Billings ? I never heard tell of him. Dad 
said you beat your little sister and ran away from 
home, and he’s goin’ to knock a little sea sense into 
you. Dad’s an awful bad man, too, my mamma 
says.” 

“ I never struck her in my life,” answered Jack, 
weakly. “ Say, young one, is this a cab I’m riding 
in or not ? ” 

The girl regarded him intently. “You’re off your 
base, ain’t you ? ” she asked, bluntly. 

“ I guess I am,” Jack agreed, winking hard to keep 
back the brimming tears ; but it was no use, for as 
he began to realise his condition his will-power gave 
way, and he burst into heart-breaking sobs. 

“Don’t cry so,” begged the child, conscious that 
her question had been ill-timed. “ You’ll be all right 
in the morning, see if you ain’t. Let me feed you 
some soup.” 

“ No — water,” begged Jack, fumbling for his hand- 
kerchief. In passing his hand over his waistcoat, he 
missed his watch-chain. Then there flashed upon 
him an inkling of the truth. 

“They’ve robbed me!” he cried, “and I’ve lost 
the diamonds ! It’s time to get back and report. 
Driver, stop the cab ! ” 


124 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“You come out, Bessie,” said Mrs. Colwell, who 
had been listening intently at the head of the steps. 
“The poor boy has wheels in his head, dear.” She 
folded the cool, damp cloth, and placed it on Jack’s 
temples with womanly tenderness. Then she re- 
moved his collar, four-in-hand, mackintosh, and shoes, 
and threw a warm blanket over him, after which she 
bathed and bandaged the swelling caused by the 
dastardly blow with the rope-end. Under this sooth- 
ing treatment Jack soon fell asleep, and did not wake 
again until daylight. Though his head still pained 
him, his mind was now as clear as crystal, and it was 
no effort for him to recall the events leading up to 
the robbery. 

He instinctively connected Jasper Billings with the 
affair from the start, and vividly recalled the last 
moments in the mansion : how he had been about to 
leave, and how he had suspected that Billings had 
not put the gems into the valise ; how willingly the 
steward had shown the jewels, and how cheerfully he 
had accepted the boy’s apology. 

Jack now realised that the man had been far too 
clever for him from the first ; for he had evidently 
expected the lad’s doubts, and had prepared himself 
accordingly by having the jewels to show. He had 
merely suggested taking a cab, but had not said any 
particular cab, leaving the matter entirely to the 
lad’s own will. That was where the man had shown 
himself to be a clever criminal, for he was now en- 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS 125 

tirely clear of any blame in the matter, so far as 
Jack could see. The weather had certainly favoured 
him, for had it been a pleasant evening, Jack would 
probably not have halted at the curb, and therefore 
the cab that Billings had in waiting to catch the mes- 
senger might have been passed by. But it had all 
gone smoothly for the steward, and Jack doubted not 
that he was at that very moment in possession of the 
casket, which was indeed the case. 

The boy next endeavoured to recall the number of 
the cab and the face of the driver, but without suc- 
cess, for he had scarcely noticed the license number, 
and had not seen the face of the man on the box at 
all. The most important clue seemed to be the fact 
that the cab had been drawn by a white horse ; but 
as there are probably a thousand white cab horses in 
the metropolis, this fact alone could be of little 
assistance to the police. 

Jack’s musings took another turn, and he tried to 
follow the direction of the cab after it had left Fifth 
Avenue. He remembered that they had turned to 
the right, but whether into Forty-seventh, eighth, or 
ninth Street, he could not say. He had not even a 
vague conception of the distance they had travelled 
west, nor into what style of building they had so sud- 
denly turned. He remembered that he had opened 
the carriage-door, and that he had caught a glimpse 
of a dark lantern. That was the last he knew. He 
told himself he had been struck on the head, and 


26 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


that he had fallen unconscious. He felt of the lump 
above the ear, and knew from this that they had used 
something in the nature of a sandbag. They had 
then stripped him of his valises and valuables, and 
had driven him, unconscious, to the water. 

He now recalled that he had been very sick in the 
night, and that he had heard angry voices at one 
time and kind ones at another ; that he had talked 
in a flighty way to a little girl in the dark, and that 
she had told him that he was aboard her daddy’s 
ship. This was obviously true, for in the dim light 
that sifted through the cracks in the forecastle door, 
Jack made out the coils of rope and collection of 
blocks strung along the crosspieces under the roof, 
and heard the swish-swash of the waves as they broke 
against the bows. He recalled how strange and weird 
everything had seemed at midnight, how poignant had 
been his grief at the first vague realisation of his loss. 

All this swept through the lad’s brain in a very 
few moments, for he fully realised the peril of his 
situation, and had already begun to speculate as to 
his probable fate. It seemed likely that they would 
take him out to sea, at least for a time, in order to 
avoid any possible contact with the police. Then 
Jack asked himself another and far more serious 
question : why should men of the stamp of these 
robbers stop at murder ? what could his life seem to 
their freedom and a small fortune to boot ? They 
had secured gems which they could easily market to 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS 


1 2 7 


unscrupulous dealers for twenty thousand dollars, per 
haps twenty-five, which fact they doubtless well under- 
stood. Why, then, should 
they run any risk of 
being exposed for the sake 
of a single life ? They 
doubtless meant to do 
away with him for ever, 
thus leaving the public 
and police to form their 
own opinions. And would 
they not accuse him of 
the crime, mentally, at 
least ? There would per- 
haps be some who would 
throw out dark hints of 
foul play, but the great 
majority would shake 
their heads and condemn 
the faithless messenger. 

What would they say 
at the office, and what 
would they say at home ? 

The papers would be full bessie. 

of it, and his mother 

would unquestionably be harassed in her grief by 
detectives and reporters. What was to be the out- 
come of it all ? Would he still have good friends 
and true in Miss Edna and her aunt ? He knew 



I 2 8 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


that Harvey would defend him against all scurrilous 
attacks, and he never doubted the loyalty of his 
mother and Daisy for the fraction of a second. 
And how would Jasper Billings come through it all? 
It was easy to foresee. He would assume a grave, 
know-nothing manner and tell a plausible story which 
could not be questioned or disputed. Colonel Vree- 
land might or might not be convinced, and might be 
tempted to discharge the steward, to which proceed- 
ing Billings no doubt would be indifferent. 

"Well/* thought Jack, setting his jaw firmly and 
attempting to rise, “ it isn’t the brightest outlook in 
the world. I wonder what’s the name of this boat, 
and where she’s bound. Hello, little one,” he added, 
aloud, catching sight of the child looking down at him 
from the head of the steps, “ come down and see me.” 

“ Dassn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Daddy said so. He’s just awful cross this 
mornin’, and my mamma cried most all night. 
We’re goin’ to sail when the tide turns. Did you 
want your soup now ? ” 

“I’ll take a little, thank you. I’ll get up,” said 
Jack, wearily raising himself to a sitting posture. 
“ What’s that on my leg ? ” 

“ Daddy chained you fast to the post when you 
was sick. He don’t mean for you to get away like 
all his other boys. He’s put a big padlock on, too; 
it ain’t no use tryin’ to break that , is it ? ” 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS 1 2g 

“ I should say not,” answered Jack, with an odd 
sinking at his heart as he surveyed the irons. 
“ What’s the name of this ship, and where’s she 
bound ? ” 

“ I dassn’t tell her name, and I don’t know where 
she’s bound for. Here’s daddy cornin’ back. So 
long,” she added, hurriedly, closing the upper half of 
the door with a bang, and Jack heard the patter of 
her feet as she ran aft. 

In about an hour she opened the upper half of the 
door again, and scrambling over the lower part, which 
was securely locked, descended the steps with a bowl 
of steaming soup. It smelt very good, and though 
Jack was not hungry, he swallowed a few spoonfuls 
and crumbled a slice of bread. 

“ There ! the men are hoistin’ the anchor,” said 
Bessie, as the creaking of a small windlass and the 
steady tramping of feet were heard overhead. 

“ Well, ain’t you ever cornin’ out ? ” roared Colwell, 
impatiently, giving a final tug to the peak halliard 
and cleating it. “ I’ll box your ears till you see 
stars, you little vixen,” he added, truculently, at 
which the child jumped to her feet and clattered 
up the steps. “No jabbering with that youngster, 
now,” and with a string of oaths he strode aft and 
took his place at the wheel, blurting some unintel- 
ligible order to Frenchy as the booms swung over 
with a great rattle and the sails filled. 

The Sallie Harkness heeled to the wind’s pressure 


130 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


and began to make headway. The swish-swash of 
the waves was now less noticeable to Jack, though 
occasionally a wave would strike the weather-bow 
with great force, and split with a hiss. The frequent 
sound of tug and steamboat whistles told him plainly 
enough that they were still in the harbour, and he 
guessed that they were headed seaward. He had no 
fears for his present safety, but dreaded the approach 
of night, feeling that whatever they had decided to 
do would be done quickly, regardless of consequences, 
and that he had little to hope from a brute who could 
address his daughter in such vile and uncalled for 
terms. 

Nobody came to the forecastle through the long 
hard day but little Bessie, who brought him a very 
tough pork chop about noon. But she would not 
say a word, and appeared badly frightened. So 
Jack was again left to his own thoughts, and though 
he tried to sleep some, found it impossible, and again 
went over the whole chain of events leading up to 
the robbery. As a natural consequence, at twilight; 
he was approaching a state of collapse, and quite 
feverish. He heard the Sallies anchor let go, 
followed by a great flapping of canvas as the fore- 
sail and jib rattled down. 

“ They’ve anchored again — I wonder where,” he 
thought. “ We can’t be much off Staten Island by 
this time.” 

The schooner was in reality lying off Tompkins- 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS 1 3 I 

ville, for Colwell, for good reasons of his own, had no 
desire to pass through the Narrows by daylight. He 
had sent Frenchy ashore for more liquor, as they had 
already consumed what they had found on board, and 
for some reason the skipper’s wife made no objection 
to this proceeding. Both men were certainly tipsy, 
for Chub had narrowly missed a small launch as he 
threw the Sallie into the wind, and Frenchy’s oars- 
manship as he propelled the dory ashore was anything 
but masterly. 

Frenchy turned into the first saloon and delivered 
his order in a rather thick voice. As soon as it was 
filled he took up the demijohns and started for the 
door, where he ran against a newsboy in full cry. 

“ Extra ! All about the diamond robbery ! Extra ! 
extra ! ” 

“ What you got, son ? ” he asked, putting down the 
vessels and fingering for his change. 

“ All about the big robbery. Come, shell out if 
you want one.” 

“ Here’s yer money. Whew!” gasped Frenchy, 
catching sight of the headlines and an effective illus- 
tration of Jack Benham clearing the country with the 
Vreeland jewels. “That’s a clever boy, ain’t it, Mr. 
Stranger ? ” 

But as the person addressed declined to fraternise, 
Frenchy proceeded to the dory as fast as a somewhat 
uncertain gait would permit. 

“Chub, you old sea-dog,” he began, on reaching 


132 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


the cabin some ten minutes later, “ what do you think 
of that ? Ain’t it just as Dick allowed ? ain’t it, now, 
on the level ? ” 

“ If I’m not clean daffy, it most sartainly is,” re- 
plied Colwell, highly amused at the imaginary drawing 
of Jack, which showed him dressed in a long ulster 
and about to board a Pullman car with a huge valise. 
“Old woman, come and take a look at this.” Mrs. 
Colwell arose at the command and scanned the page 
eagerly. “ What do you think of your man now ? 
ain’t he a peach ? ” 

“ Chudden Colwell, if you — ” 

“ Shut up ! ” roared the skipper. “ Don’t begin 
in that strain, Molly, or I’ll stuff this roll of bills 
down your windpipe. Ain’t it a neat little wad for 
a poor sailorman ? ” He opened his great brown 
hand and displayed the currency with a cunning leer. 
“ Have a drop before we up the mud- hook for a run 
down the Narrows. Old woman, you hang out the 
glims and we’ll persuade the Sallie to sheer off. 
Frenchy, my boy, take a turn or two with the wind- 
lass and I’ll start the gaffs.” 

The trim little schooner was soon under way, and, 
aided by wind and tide, quickly ran into the Narrows, 
always hugging the Staten Island shore. At this 
point the skipper put the wheel over, crossing the 
channel and passing close to old Fort Lafayette. 
They had head winds to Bath, which they passed 
about eight o’clock, crossing Gravesend Bay and 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS 1 33 

rounding Norton’s Point before nine. From Nor- 
ton’s Point Chub laid a course to the main channel in 
the Lower Bay, but soon came about and pointed the 
Sallie eastward, in the direction of Rockaway Beach. 
There was a brisk wind blowing, and the November 
air was cold. 

“ Here, you, Molly,” called the skipper, evidently 
believing he had stood his trick at the wheel long 
enough. “You keep her pointed off the Rockaway 
light whilst Frenchy and me has a set-to with the 
flask.” 

“Yes, Chudden,” said the woman, who seemed 
agreeable to the change. “About a point off the 
light ? ” 

“ Say about two points, my dear,” replied Chub, 
who was unusually affable. “ I’ll drop the fo’sail, so’s 
she’ll ride easy.” His better half put the helm down, 
thus throwing the Sallie into the wind, while Chub, 
easing on the halliards, lowered the thrashing canvas. 

He found Frenchy seated at the table with a glass 
of liquor in his hand, and another poured out for the 
skipper. They began at once to drink and sing, 
but before another hour had slipped by they had 
entered into a heated argument ; for Frenchy kept 
blurting, with drunken persistency, that the skipper 
of the Sallie Harkness had “ taken water ” from Dick 
Bolden in the stable after the robbery, which charge 
Colwell angrily denied. High words ran into vile 
oaths until they finally came to blows, and were 


134 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

soon engaged in a drunken brawl, tumbling over 
the cabin floor as they struck and kicked by turns. 
Colwell finally got the little man by the throat in an 
attempt to cut off his wind, but quick as a flash 
Frenchy drew a knife and plunged the bright blade 
into the skipper’s arm. With a howl of mingled 
rage and pain the great coward let go his hold and 
struggled to his feet. 

“ Now you stand by, or I’ll cut you again,” panted 
Frenchy, wiping the blade on his coat-sleeve with a 
muffled oath. Colwell attempted to bluster, but 
the effort was a failure. He knew that Deschamps 
was well armed, and would not . hesitate to use his 
weapons should occasion arise ; and fairly maddened 
though he was, he was too cowardly to renew the 
attack. Their little difference had a sobering effect, 
however, for Frenchy presently went aft and took 
the wheel, while Mrs. Colwell returned to the cabin 
and bandaged her husband’s arm. Then she mixed 
him an astonishingly long drink, which he gulped 
down in a twinkling. She repeated the dose, and 
again he swallowed the mixture, after which she led 
him into the little anteroom and put him to bed. 

“ Here, Bess, take this bread and tea to the boy 
and see how he’s cornin’ on,” said she, as the terri- 
fied child clung to her side. “ Here’s the key for 
that lock your pa snapped on to his leg. You give 
it to him and tell him to put on his shoes. No, don’t 
take no lantern ; you can see good enough.” 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS 


135 


The child took the articles and hurried forward. 
Jack heard her coming, and raised himself inquir- 
ingly as she descended the steps. 

“ What’s happened ? ” said he, believing that the 
girl had brought news as well as food. “ Has any- 
body been killed ? ” 

“No, but dad’s been cut — Frenchy stabbed him 
in the arm. How does your head feel now ? ” 

“A little better,” said Jack, who had forgotten all 
about himself in the intense excitement of the last 
twenty minutes. 

“You put on your shoes, ’cause I’ve got the key 
to that lock,” and Bessie began feeling in the dim 
light for the article in question. 

“ You have!” exclaimed Jack, feeling that the tide 
had turned at last. “ Where did you get it ? ” 

“ My mamma took it out of dad’s pocket. 
Wouldn’t he be mad if he knew it ? ” 

“I guess so,” Jack agreed, swallowing the hot 
tea with a relish. “ Can you find the lock ? ” 

“Here it is. Sh ! don’t make no racket.” She 
deftly unwound the chain after removing the lock, 
and Jack threw his legs out of the bunk and sat up, 
with a grim determination to gain the deck and have 
a look about him, cost what it might. The child 
helped him on with his shoes, and as the blood set- 
tled from his head he seemed to feel a good deal 
stronger. At this moment the girl’s mother was 
heard calling. 


136 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“You stay here, or Frenchy’ll see you,” said 
Bessie, hurrying away. She was gone but a few 
minutes, returning to the head of the steps in her 
stocking feet. “ Come up,” she whispered, beckon- 
ing impatiently, as a child will do at such times. 
“ Frenchy’s in the cabin, and my mamma’s at the 
wheel. She’s got the dory ready for you to row 
ashore in.” 

Jack’s heart gave a great throb of delight, and he 
just suppressed a wild ejaculation in the nick of 
time. She took him by the hand and led him aft, 
where he found his benefactress leaning over the 
stern with a lantern in her hand. She had lashed 
the wheel, and the little vessel was holding her 
course nicely. 

“ Can you row ? ” she asked, impatiently. 

“Yes, yes,” answered Jack, making out the bob- 
bing dory as soon as his eyes had accustomed them- 
selves to the glare. 

“ Then get down and pull away, or God help you ! 
Keep the wind on the stern, and head for the shore 
lights ; you ain’t five miles off Brighton.” 

Jack climbed over the rail with an effort, and by 
good luck managed to strike the centre of the dory. 
The woman immediately flung the painter over, but 
before Jack could ship the oars, he found himself 
bobbing about in the trough of a heavy sea. The 
Sallie Harkness was fast slipping away in the dark- 
ness, there being no moon, and the shore lights the 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS I 37 

woman had spoken of were nowhere to be seen. 
There was a brisk wind, however, and before this 
Jack began to drive, always keeping the boat headed 
across the long swells. He soon realised how much 
strength he had lost in the last thirty hours, for, after 
rowing a short while, he was too weak to drag the 
blades through the water, and had to content himself 
with simply steering the dory by an occasional dip 
of the oars. 

After a seeming eternity of darkness he made out 
a single shore light, and at the same time heard the 
dull roar of the surf as it struck a long breakwater 
somewhere to the left. Dangerous as he realised the 
landing would be, Jack’s star of hope never shone 
more brightly ; for with a fervent prayer to God he 
headed the dory toward the light, and after a long, 
dreary tug, during which the cold spray drenched him 
to the skin, he was rewarded by the welcome roar of 
the surf breaking on rocks and wet-darkened sands. 

Nearer and nearer crept the little vessel until the 
white line of foam seemed directly under the bows. 
One mountainous swell lifted the shell on its crest 
and dropped it into a vortex of hissing spume. Then 
a great breaker spilled its white top over the stern, 
and a second one, catching the dory with full force 
as it fell, drove the little boat against some outstand- 
ing rocks with appalling force. 

There was a report like a pistol-shot as the dory 
struck and went into a dozen pieces, leaving Jack 


138 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

breast deep in the breakers. He struggled shore- 
ward, only to be drawn back by the fearful undertow 
and submerged. Once again was he hurled toward 
the rocks, and by a superhuman effort managed to 
hold fast until the sea receded. Then he climbed a 
little higher, and lay there gasping for breath while 
a fringe of froth swept over him with a stealthy hiss, 
cooling and refreshing the exhausted body. 

After a brief prayer of thanksgiving he staggered 
to his feet, and, aided by the very faint starlight, crept 
on up the rocks until he was conscious of an obstruc- 
tion in the shape of an iron fence blocking the way. 
Under the lower rail of this he crawled by degrees, 
for continual showers of spray, blown from the break- 
ers, had converted the planks of a long promenade 
into treacherous slides. 

As soon as Jack had crossed the promenade, how- 
ever, he rose from all-fours and trudged across a 
level stretch of turf, dotted here and there with eerie 
figures done up in straw, which he soon discovered to 
be rose-bushes in their winter dress. A great dome- 
shaped building loomed on his right, while directly in 
front stood a long low structure, black as ink in the 
shadowed recesses. But as the light he had seen 
just before beaching could not now be located, he 
tramped on down the lawn toward the end of the 
building, which, upon rounding, brought him to a 
cosy tenant’s cottage well tucked away from the 
wind. A bright light burned in the window, where 


ABOARD THE SALLIE HARKNESS 


139 


a little old man sat reading. Jack staggered up and 
knocked at the door, which was opened by a ready 
hand. 

The lad tried to say something, but his voice would 
not obey him, and he could only point toward the sea. 

“ Come in ! come in ! ” cried the venerable watch- 
man, catching sight of the boy’s tragic face. “ Where 
on airth did ye drop from on a night like this ? ” 

Again Jack pointed seaward. 

“ Shipwreck, ye say? Ye poor little rat, wet to 
the skin and shiverin’ with the ague. Come right 
in, and let old Andy give ye a berth and a hot glass 
of grog.” 

As Jack heard the words he tried to enter, but, 
catching his foot on the door-sill, reeled and fell 
heavily to the floor. It was the last he knew until 
daybreak, when he was awakened by the sullen roar 
of the surf to find himself on a small bed in the 
watchman’s cottage. There was a fire in the stove, 
but Andy was nowhere about. 



CHAPTER VIII. 


FRIENDS AND FOES 

J ASPER BILLINGS reached Colonel Vreeland’s 
at a late hoar on the night of the robbery, which 
occurred on a Wednesday. He had disposed of the 
two valises temporarily, and as his plans had all been 
carried out without a single hitch, he was in excellent 
good spirits, and affably exchanged a few. words with 
the night watchman, whom he found sauntering along 
the curb twirling his club. 

The steward was somewhat dubious in regard to 
Chub Colwell’s part in the affair, for he had little 
faith in the master of the Sallie Harkness , and 
looked upon him as a very cheap bungler, well 
enough adapted to river and longshore thievery, but 
wholly unfitted for any position of trust in an impor- 
tant criminal intrigue. Still, if Colwell and Frenchy 
carried out his orders, he told himself, he would be 
left above suspicion, and that was all he cared about. 
His old confederates had certainly proven useful 
men on this occasion, and at some propitious time 
he might again board the schooner, as he had prom- 
ised, and pay over what money he thought best, after 

140 


FRIENDS AND FOES I4I 

which he intended to leave the employ of Colonel 
Vreeland and decamp for parts unknown. Such 
were his soliloquies as he climbed to his luxurious 
rooms above the conservatory and lighted a gold- 
tipped cigarette, wholly free from all anxiety in re- 
gard to Jack’s condition, and absolutely indifferent 
to the same. 

What was stranger still, the man even slept soundly. 
On awaking about eight o’clock, he rang as usual for 
the butler. Ambrose soon appeared with the morn- 
ing paper, which he handed to the steward with a 
respectful bow. Billings took the sheet and glanced 
rapidly over the headlines, then turned to the city 
jottings and scanned them closely. 

“Well, it seems the fools have got safely off,” he 
thought, but said to the butler, testily, “ I’ll take my 
coffee here, and tell them to have it black, mind you 
— jet-black.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“And bring the mail,” said Billings, who seemed 
unusually taciturn. 

“It hasn’t come, sir.” 

Billings muttered something under his breath, as 
he struggled into a peach-coloured smoking-jacket^ 
and donned a pair of varnished slippers. He 1 
brushed his scanty blond hair and polished his fin- 
ger nails with much satisfaction, after which he again 
took up the newspaper and scanned the columns 
carefully. He seldom did things by halves. 


142 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“Here is the mail, sir,” said the butler, depositing 
the tray and a bundle of letters on a small table by 
the radiator. 

Billings hurried through the superscriptions, and 
seemed much relieved on finding no communication 
from Lakewood. 

“Tell McGratty to run over to the Blue Front 
Stables and bid to twelve hundred on that brown 
hunter in the Blemton lot,” said he. “ I looked him 
over yesterday, and decided he’d do. The sale begins 
at ten. Ask Mrs. Anderson” — she was the house- 
keeper — “if there’s anything particular. If not, I’ll 
not go down for an hour or so.” He spread the 
napkin on one knee and began stirring the loaf 
sugar into the dark liquid, all the while nerving him- 
self for the difficult part he meant to play later on. 
Having finished his roll and coffee, he dressed with 
unusual care, finally reaching his desk about ten. 

He spent several hours in answering the mail, 
entering and balancing accounts, counting cash, and 
making up the .servants’ pay-roll. He next filed 
away the more important letters alphabetically, for- 
warded his employer’s personal mail, and put the 
desk in perfect order. At a little after one he sud- 
denly put down his cigar and went to the telephone. 
His eyes were unusually bright, but his face was ashy 
pale. In a well modulated and fairly natural voice he 
called up Mackay and Co., whose number was 1102 
Madison," “ Central ” gave him the wire at once. 


FRIENDS AND FOES 


143 


“ Oh, good morning. It’s you, is it, Mr. Forbes ? 
Is young Benham back from Lakewood yet ? You 
know he went down on the evening train last night,” 
he explained, stating the lie with brazen effrontery. 

“ He’s not been here this morning,” declared Mr. 
Forbes. 

“Much obliged,” said Billings. “I want to see 
him when he comes.” 

“Very well. I’ll tell him.” 

“Thanks,” and Billings rang off. He hung the 
receiver, and hurried over to the long-distance tele- 
phone at the Buckingham, and after- considerable 
delay succeeded in getting Colonel Vreeland’s valet 
at the ’phone in the Lakewood Hotel. 

“ Is this you, Flambeau ? Say, I sent the madam’s 
jewels down on the evening train last night. That 
young fellow of Mackay’s took them, and he hasn’t 
reported to me yet. Is the colonel keeping him on 
business ? He hasn’t been at the office to-day.” 

“He hasn’t showed up at all,” replied the aston- 
ished Flambeau. 

“What!” yelled Billings, in well-assumed amaze- 
ment. “ Hasn’t he got there yet ? ” 

“No. I just sent you a wire from the colonel. 
He’s hot in the collar over it.” 

“ I should think he would be. But what’s to be 
done ? ” 

“I’ll see Colonel Vreeland. You’ll have to hold 
the wire/’ 


144 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


Billings sat impatiently on the stool fo"r fully 
twenty minutes. 

“Say, the coloners out with the pack, but the 
madam is clean upset. She’s been expectin’ the 
stones for the ball to-night, and she’s clean put out. 
Say, Mr. Billings, you’d better report it to Mr. 
Mackay,” concluded Flambeau, earnestly. 

“I think I’d better. Tell Colonel Vreeland to 
wire or ’phone instructions at once,” he added, per- 
emptorily. “ I’m afraid it’s a serious matter, Flam- 
beau, so attend to it without delay.” 

When the steward returned to the mansion he 
found an obsequious young reporter seated in the 
great hall chair, while the veteran butler, somewhat 
in doubt as to the propriety of his action in admitting 
the youth, stood in the rear and pretended to busy 
himself with an umbrella-receiver. 

“ Well ? ” demanded Billings, as the reporter 
rose. 

“Excuse me, sir, but could you favour me with 
any items regarding Mrs. Vreeland’s gown for the 
Wharton ball at Lakewood to-night ? ” 

“ Looking for news, hey ! ” exclaimed the steward. 
“What would you do with the biggest ‘beat’ of the 
month ? ” 

“Are you joking, sir?” the reporter asked, ner- 
vously shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“ Do I look as if I was joking ? ” 

“ N-no, sir, you do not,” stammered the aspiring 


FRIENDS AND FOES I45 

journalist. “ I should be much obliged, I am sure, 
for any hints that — ” 

“Well, just make a note of this, then, and keep 
your mouth shut. Can you do that ? ” 

“ I think I can,” answered the reporter, though just 
then his looks belied the words. 

“Say that John L. Benham — have you got the 
name right ? John L. Benham, a youth employed as 
outside clerk for Mackay and Co., the real estate peo- 
ple, was last evening sent with Mrs. Vreeland’s casket 
of jewels to Lakewood. He has not been at the 
office since, and he has not reached Lakewood. That 
is all I can tell you, and they are the facts. Are they 
not, Ambrose ? ” 

“ Indeed ! is it possible, sir ! ” exclaimed the butler, 
raising his hands in genuine astonishment. “To be 
sure, sir, he left here last night about dark, as I 
remember it.” 

“ You can draw your own inferences, for the jewels 
were worth nearly forty thousand dollars,” continued 
the steward, brazenly. “You can also corroborate 
what I say at the office, 500 Madison Avenue. But 
do not connect me with this information under any 
circumstances — understand that ? And you, Am- 
brose, keep your mouth shut.” 

“ Certainly, sir, reasons very obvious,” and with a 
final dash of his pencil the reporter hurried down 
the steps and hailed the first cab with feverish ex- 
citement. He had accidentally secured a genuine 


I46 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

“beat,” a truly great triumph for a young reporter, 
and meant to make the most of it. For the benefit 
of my readers who may not understand the meaning 
of the word “ beat ” as here used, it may be stated 
that the first publication of any news especially inter- 
esting to the public is considered a “beat.” 

That was how it got into the papers so soon, for 
the young journalist found Joe Doyle cleaning the 
office windows, and by deft questioning learned suffi- 
cient of the loquacious janitor to complete his story. 
He hurried back to the office, and in another half- 
hour there was not a single editor, reporter, clerk, 
pressman, or copy-boy in the building who did not 
know that a big “beat” was on the press. In an- 
other half hour “extras” were in the hands of the 
gamins in Herald Square, and automobiles were start- 
ing for Harlem and Park Row as fast as the pink 
bundles came from the pressrooms. Later editions 
contained imaginary illustrations, but it was the early 
edition of the Evening Telegram that carried the first 
news of the affair to a credulous public and an in- 
credulous newspaper world, for the latter was at first 
inclined to look upon it as a timely hoax, but upon 
very slight investigation speedily changed this opinion. 

Jack’s mother was at her desk in the little sanctum 
on the second floor of the building, busy with an 
elaborate account of the ball gowns to be worn that 
night at Lakewood, when a copy-boy suddenly thrust 
his red head into the room and said, all in a breath, 


FRIENDS AND FOES 


147 


which caused the editor-in-chief and her associates 
to look up from their work in surprise : 

“ Say, de feller you sent to get notes for de Sunday 
special is down-stairs wid a big ‘beat.’ Say, you 
won’t see him no more, ’cause de boss’s give ’im de 
glad hand.” 

“ What’s happened, Patsey ? ” asked the young 
woman nearest the door, for the boy’s face was fairly 
glowing. 

“ Say, it’s great. It’s about a young feller wat 
skipped out wid a bag of diamonds booked for de 
swells at Lakewood to-night. Say, Nick Carter ain’t 
in it wid him.” 

“ Who owned the jewels — Bob Whitehouse ? ” re- 
joined the other, poising a huge pair of shears, for 
Patsey was considered a veritable fund of information. 

“Naw. De feller dat built de Newsboys’ Home. 
Wat’s dis his name is ? ” 

“Why, it’s my Jack!” cried Mrs. Benham, who 
had been but mildly interested up to this point. She 
was very white, and, leaning back in her chair, cov- 
ered her face with her hands as though the light 
from the gas-jets hurt her eyes. 

“Why, Mrs. Benham, what do you mean!” ex- 
claimed Miss Westcott, little guessing the truth, for 
Mrs. Benham did not look her age by any means. 
“ Have you a grown son ? ” 

“It must be my Jack,” repeated the lady, irrele- 
vantly, as she swung in her chair and spoke into a 


48 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


tube. “ Mr. Howland, what are the names of the 
principals in the last ‘beat,’ please?” 

“Col. Henry T. Vreeland and wife, Georgia, John 
L. Benham, Mackay and Company,” the city editor 
answered slowly, supposing she meant to take a list 
of the names. 

“Thank you. Yes, it is my John,” she added, 

rising from her 
seat. “ Miss West- 
cott, please have 
the article sent 
down before you 
leave. I must go 
now.” Her face 
was still white, but 
her mouth was 
firmly set, and she 
spoke in her usual 
quiet way, with 
just a perceptible 
tremor in her voice. 
Miss Randall helped her on with her things, and a 
moment after she was hurrying down the wide 
marble stairway, while Patsey ran off to spread the 
astounding news to the effect that the John L. 
Benham in question was the son of the highly 
respected and clever editor of the women’s page. 

Mrs. Benham hailed the first hansom, and was 
rapidly driven to the offices of Mackay and Company 



FRIENDS AND FOES 


149 


in Madison Avenue. She had not been there since 
Jack’s connection with the firm, as there seemed no 
necessity for it. She had often passed the building, 
however, and, as soon as the cab drew up, stepped 
out and hurried through the door. As Jack had 
once described his employer’s appearance, she had 
no trouble in recognising the head of the firm. 

“You are Mr. Mackay, are you not?” she began, 
as that gentleman gravely arose and removed his 
glasses. 

“I am, madam,” said he, guessing the cause of 
her agitation. 

“I have come to ask if you have got news of 
my son — if this is true that he has not been heard 
from since he left last evening.” 

“Unfortunately, yes,” replied the broker, calmly. 
“ If you will step into my office, madam, we can talk 
to better advantage.” He opened the swinging gate 
and the lady entered the ground-glass enclosure. 
“Take a seat,” he said, kindly, for her distress was 
quite obvious. As she accepted the proffered chair 
and turned her great dark eyes upon him, the man 
shifted uneasily in his seat. 

“You will surely tell me the worst, sir, for I can 
hear the news,” she urged, as soon as he was seated. 

“As yet there is happily no worst about it, my 
dear lady. It is true that the boy did not reach 
Lakewood as expected, but he may have lost his way. 
I sent around to your apartment, but there seemed 


150 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


to be nobody at home. No, he did not reach Lake- 
wood, for I have just had a talk with Colonel Vree- 
land over the wire. He is naturally much nettled, 
and has directed me to make a very thorough in- 
vestigation. He had taken a fancy to the lad, but 
was for openly condemning him at the start to-day. 
You know how it is with these strait-laced military 
men, I’m sure ; they’re not at all inclined to be 
charitable, because, I suppose, they see so much 
discipline year in and year out. I told him that I 
believed your son wholly innocent of any crime, and 
I shall adhere to that opinion until I have been firmly 
convinced to the contrary.” 

“ I cannot thank you enough for such an expres- 
sion of confidence,” replied Mrs. Benham, in a low, 
grateful voice. “And now please tell me what you 
think has happened.” The little colour that had 
come to her cheeks at the broker’s cheering words 
now faded away, and, leaning slightly forward, she 
sat motionless in her chair in a tense attitude of 
expectancy. 

“There are a number of things that might have 
happened,” replied the broker, “but as he had a 
large amount of valuable jewelry in his possession, 
to me there seems but one plausible solution of the 
mystery : the boy has undoubtedly met with foul 
play.” 

“ Please don’t ! ” cried the distressed mother. 
“ Surely, sir, it cannot be, my brave little John.” 


FRIENDS AND FOES 


151 

“ I will not deceive you,” continued the broker. 
“ and that is my opinion. I would not look on the 
dark side of things, madam, for the likelihood is that 
he will turn up all safe and sound before many days, 
and then he can tell his own story. I feel quite cer- 
tain, however, that Colonel Vreeland has seen the 
last of the casket.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” 

“ I do indeed. There have been several engaged 
in this crime, unless I am greatly mistaken, and they 
ar,e certainly not blunderers.” 

“ Then why do you give me any hope ? ” asked 
*Mrs. Benham, in despair. 

“ Because they doubtless found no trouble in han- 
dling a mere boy, and have therefore no desire to do 
the lad unnecessary injury. He may at this moment 
be recovering from some drug, and may be home to- 
morrow for breakfast. Who can tell ? Such cases 
are of almost daily occurrence, as you must know.” 

“ If you will pardon my saying so, you do not look 
as hopeful as you talk, sir.” 

“ Frankly, madam, that is precisely what I think 
about Jack’s chances. I have not seen Mr. Billings 
yet, and was on the point of starting for Colonel 
Vreeland’s when you arrived. If you can spare the 
time, we can run over now.” 

“ Indeed I must go with you. I have a hansom in 
waiting.” 

They accordingly entered the vehicle without delay, 


152 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

and were driven to the mansion. The butler ad- 
mitted them at once, and in reply to the broker’s 
brief question gravely inclined his head. He drew 
back the library portieres and announced the visitors. 

“ Mr. Mackay and friend,” said he, as the broker 
had not mentioned the lady’s name. 

Billings arose at the words and faced about, bowing 
low as his glance fell on the graceful figure at the 
broker’s side. 

“Good-afternoon,” said he, mechanically offering 
chairs. “I am glad you have come, sir, for I am at 
a loss to explain your clerk’s unaccountable disap- 
pearance, and should like to know how to proceed in 
this very serious matter.” 

“ Colonel Vreeland has given me full charge of the 
investigation, and you will therefore not be required 
to give or receive any information whatsoever — 
please understand that,” replied Mr. Mackay, curtly. 
“ This lady is the young man’s mother,” he continued, 
“ and we have come to hear your story before putting 
the matter in the hands of the police. I am incensed 
that the news should have reached the press so early, 
and that the papers should have been favoured with 
such an uncharitable version of the affair. Do you 
happen to know how the information got out ? ” 

“ Indeed not, sir. I have instructed the servants 
to refuse all information. No one is more distressed 
than I, unless perhaps it be the lady there.” 

“Very good. Now, Mr. Billings, please tell us the 


FRIENDS AND FOES 153 

circumstances of the boy’s departure, as you remem- 
ber them.” 

“It will not take me three minutes by the clock, 
sir, and I remember them perfectly. Mrs. Vreeland 
had sent her jewels to Frost and Starr’s to be over- 
looked, as a few repairs were necessary, and there- 
fore did not take them with her when she left town. 
Tuesday night I received an urgent letter from her, 
by special delivery, ordering me to send the casket 
down in time for the ball to-night. Accordingly, 
Wednesday morning I ’phoned young Benham to 
come up before ten, which he did. I told him that 
he would have to make a trip to Lakewood on the 
evening train, and to prepare for it accordingly.” 

“ That’s so,” agreed Mrs. Benham, clearly impressed 
with the steward’s frank manner. “ He came home 
and had tea, and got his valise for the trip.” 

“And returned here about five,” continued the 
steward, earnestly. “ I got the bag out of the safe 
and told him to be chary of it, as it contained many 
valuable jewels. It was certainly a natural thing to 
do, but right after I was sorry for it, for the young 
fellow changed his mood in a jiffy. He seemed 
absent-minded and excited, and as there was plenty 
of time, I didn’t hurry him off. He finally grabbed 
his coat and started for the door, but came to a halt 
right there on the edge of that rug and turned half 
around. ‘Mr. Billings,’ he said, ‘how do I know 
this bag contains a single gem ? ’ I recall the very 


154 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


words,” and Billings regarded his hearers with a 
deeply grieved expression that suited the situation 
to a T. 

Mackay frowned thoughtfully and rubbed the palms 
of his hands upon his knees. His companion sighed 
audibly, but there was not the trace of a tear in her 
fine dark eyes. “And then?” she inquired, tenta- 
tively. 

“ Why, then I told him what any man in the same 
position would have told him : that he was taking a 
mean advantage of his youth, and that some men 
would have knocked him down for implying anything 
of the kind. Still he was doggedly persistent, and 
the upshot of the matter was that I had to unlock 
the casket and show the jewels. After that he 
apologised, and as I had no desire to enter into any 
unpleasantness with a beardless boy, I overlooked 
the matter. Your son left soon after with a satchel 
in each hand, as the butler will tell you, for he closed 
the door behind him. That is all I know, and they 
are the facts,” concluded Billings, decisively. 

There was a protracted silence, during which the 
steward rose and raised the window shades. 

“ Did you give him any definite instructions before 
he left ? ” asked Mr. Mackay, casually. 

“ Why, no, sir. I had given him money for travel- 
ling, and as it was raining, I suggested taking a cab 
to the ferry. That was all. I do not remember 
anything else.” 


FRIENDS AND FOES I 5 5 

“What is your opinion in the matter?” inquired 
the broker, suavely. 

“You will pardon my frankness, madam, if I say 
that I think the boy was unable to resist the tempta- 
tion thus presen — ” 

“ No, no, I will not hear it ! ” cried Mrs. Benham, 
flushing scarlet as she arose, a picture of righteous 
indignation, and flashed her eyes on the man. “You 
shall not accuse my John of theft, for he is not guilty 
of this crime. He is a good, brave son, and I shall 
not hear his name slandered,” she declared, passion- 
ately. 

“ But it is the only plausible explanation, neverthe- 
less. Do you not think so, sir ? ” he asked, persua- 
sively. 

“ Most decidedly I do not,” the broker bluntly 
disagreed. “The lad has probably met with foul 
play.” 

Billings threw up his hands in horror. 

“ That,” said he, “ is a suggestion worth following. 
He may have encountered an organised gang, to be 
sure, in which case he will fare badly. Do you 
know, the police force of this city is wofully incom- 
petent. Were the truth really known, I am of the 
opinion that at the next election Father Knicker- 
bocker would order a thorough overhauling of the 
department.” 

“ Mr. Mackay,” said the butler, who had entered 
quietly during the steward’s last remark, “ Miss 


156 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

Gertrude desires to speak with you in the music- 
room.” 

“Very well, Frazer. You will excuse me, madam, 
for just a moment,” he said, following the butler to 
the door. He found Miss Vreeland and her niece 

seated on the divan 
in the bay-window, 
holding hands. 

“ Is it true that 
misfortune has 
come to Master 
Jack?” anxiously 
inquired the 
former, as the 
broker extended his 
hand. “ I have 
been for a drive, 
and Edna has just 
told me.” 

“ I am afraid so. 
His mother is in the 
library now, and a 
mighty brave little 
woman she is.” 

“Please ask her in,” said Edna, who had had a 
good cry since the maid had unwittingly shown her 
an afternoon paper. 

“ I should be glad to. Billings, you see, is inclined 
to think the boy guilty of — ” 



MISS VREELAND. 


FRIENDS AND FOES 


157 


“ Oh, Billings!” cried Edna, curling her pretty 
lip, disdainfully. “ I wish he’d mind his own busi- 
ness.” 

“Edna, dear, don’t say that,” remonstrated the 
elder girl. “ He has a right to an opinion, I’m sure.” 

“ No, he hasn’t. Nobody shall say a word against 
him, not if mamma’s rings are never heard of again,” 
and she stamped her little foot to emphasise the 
words. 

Mr. Mackay accordingly introduced Mrs. Benham, 
who never forgot the kind, hopeful, and cheering 
words of that half-hour, and left convinced that Jack 
had not suffered a whit among his friends, let the 
public think as it might. She found Daisy anxiously 
awaiting her return, for the little girl had heard thje 
news, and as the hansom drew up at the curb, gave 
her mother a comforting kiss. Then there were 
some dark hours in the little home, but, thanks to 
good luck and to the gallant assistance of Jack’s 
staunch friend, Harvey, there was an unexpected 
change for the better by Friday morning. 


CHAPTER IX. 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 

H ARVEY TALLANT was much distressed at 
the news of Jack’s mysterious disappearance. 
It never occurred to him to doubt the integrity of 
his friend, for above all else Jack had impressed him 
with his innate honesty. After considerable serious 
thought, Harvey also came to the conclusion that 
Jack had met with foul play, and on returning to 
the office at dusk questioned Mr. P'orbes, who gave 
him the facts as far as he knew them. 

“ It is certainly a very unfortunate affair,” said 
the head collector, musingly. “What are the 
chances ? ” 

“ Mighty slim,” declared Harvey, without hesita- 
tion. “He’s all boy, Mr. Forbes, and hasn’t got 
lost or gone wrong, or anything of that sort. That’s 
just as true as this safe is made of iron. He’s fallen 
among a lot of roughs or cool-headed crooks, and 
they’ve got the upper hand — that’s all,” and Harvey 
put down his cash-box and faced squarely about as if 
he expected some unfavourable retort. 

158 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 


159 


“ That is my opinion exactly. But who’ll believe 
it ? ” asked the former, skeptically. 

“/ do, at any rate,” answered Harvey, vehemently. 
“ And there’s a favour I’d like to ask of you, Mr. 
Forbes. To-morrow’s our dullest day, and I’d like 
to get off and have a little time to look into this 
affair.” 

Mr. Forbes smiled indulgently. “ Going to turn 
detective, Tallant ? ” he asked. 

“Not exactly, sir, for I haven’t much taste for 
that sort of thing. But I’ve got a wild idea that I 
might be of some help to all concerned. If I find I’m 
mistaken, I’ll be back for work Saturday morning.” 

“ Do you mean it ? ” 

“ Most assuredly I do.” 

“Very well. Your route is in pretty good shape, 
and I’ll turn Benham’s list over to McPherson,” re- 
sponded Mr. P'orbes, glancing through the little 
ledgers. 

Harvey was about to thank him when they were 
interrupted by the entrance of three central office 
detectives, who asked for Mr. Mackay. One of the 
trio _was a very tall, red-faced man of thirty-five or 
thereabouts. He had a bright snappy way with him, 
and, after passing Mr. F'orbes his card, began to ask 
for details, to which he and his companions listened 
with profound attention. 

“ It’s one of those cases that excite so much public 
interest,” he explained, when Mr. Forbes had told all 


i6o 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


he knew. “That is why we’d like to get to rock 
bottom as soon as possible, not only in the interests 
of justice, but for the credit of the department as 
well. You say the boy was not bonded ? ” 

“ He was not.” 

“ Had you known his family for any considerable 
period prior to your employing him ? ” 

“We had not. He came in answer to an adver- 
tisement.” 

“ I feared as much. This picking boys up off the 
street is all wrong. Like enough that chap hasn’t 
left the city, and still we may be a month or two in 
locating him,” concluded the detective, with a smile 
that was meant to be conciliatory. 

“Really, Mr. Pemberton,” protested the collector, 
steadily, “ I must ask you not to infer anything of 
the kind. It is Colonel Vreeland’s expressed wish 
that the boy should not be blamed in the matter until 
proven guilty of wrong-doing. I do not believe that 
will prove to be the case.” 

“Neither do I,” broke in Harvey, quickly. 

“That’s the position an employer usually assumes,” 
concluded Pemberton, inexorably, making a note of 
Jack’s home address ; “ but in nine cases out of ten 
it proves to be misplaced confidence.” 

“ At least have the goodness to keep your views 
to yourself,” retorted Mr. Forbes, austerely, as the 
man went out. “You see how it is, Tallant,” he 
continued, warmly, “they’ll all work on the one 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE l6l 

theory, assuming that Benham has made away with 
the jewel-box. I think Mr. Mackay is pretty well 
convinced to the contrary, don’t you ? ” 

“ I haven’t seen him yet, but I hope so,” said 
Harvey, as he took up his hat. “I’ll be back Sat- 
urday, then, if nothing turns up.” 

“ Good luck. And tell Doyle not to admit any 
newspaper men,” replied Mr. Forbes, as he emptied 
the cash-box. “ We may as well put an end to these 
callers first as last.” 

It was dark when Harvey reached the street. He 
looked across at the dimly lighted corner where he 
had stood with Jack two mornings before, and where 
they had parted on such good terms. “ I wish he’d 
never heard that telephone call,” he thought, tossing 
the newspaper that had first acquainted him with the 
news into the gutter. “ I don’t believe a word of 
that rot, and never will. Halloa, Mack ! ” he ex- 
claimed, as McPherson came up. “ How are 
collections ? ” 

“Just fair. Say, Tallant, seen the Telegram ?” 
“Sure thing. Forget it, Mack. You don’t believe 
any of that stuff, do you ? ” 

“Well, hardly. But all the same that was a big 
temptation to put a boy to. Don’t you think so ? ” 

“ I do not. And I don’t want any friend of mine 
to think so, Jim McPherson. I’ve got my own ideas 
in this matter, and I’m off for to-morrow to follow 
them up.” 


1 62 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


McPherson laughed harshly. “ Harvey Tallant, 
the young East Side sleuth, will recover the Vree- 
land jewels to-morrow,” said he, tauntingly. “You 
ought to have it announced in display type.” 

“ Never mind, I’m not a fellow to go back on 
a good friend,” retorted Harvey, with considerable 
asperity. 

“ Neither am I. But I’ll tell you one thing, Tal- 
lant : you’ve got no more chance of helping young 
Benham than you have of locating the proverbial 
needle in the haystack. And you’ll get behind in 
your collections, for there’s the boy’s houses to hustle 
up to-morrow, too.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Forbes will turn those over to you. Don’t 
worry, Mack. So long.” 

Harvey crossed the avenue and walked homeward. 
“ I guess Mack’s right, after all,” he thought, “ I 
suppose' this is a wild-goose chase.” 

His parents had much to say at the supper-table, 
and Harvey answered their questions to the best of 
his knowledge. Other tenants in the apartment- 
house knocked at the door and asked for informa- 
tion during the meal, for it was generally known 
that Harvey was employed by the well-known firm. 
He defended Jack resolutely, but for all that he could 
see that public opinion was against him. And when 
he again reached the street and bought a paper, he 
saw that both the police and press were united in 
condemning the messenger. Harvey therefore made 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 


63 


a call on Jack’s mother, who was much comforted by 
the youth’s cheerful view of the situation. A fairly 
good portrait of Jack had appeared in the late papers, 
but as Mrs. Benham had denied herself to the ubiqui- 
tous reporters, it was a mystery where they had ob- 
tained the photograph. She was, however, sufficiently 
well acquainted with newspaper methods not to be 
unduly surprised at this or at the unfriendly attitude 
of the press. 

“I am so thankful that most of Jack’s acquaint- 
ances prove to be loyal friends,” she said, with a sigh, 
as Harvey rose to go. “I wanted to ask you a ques- 
tion, Mr. Tallant,” she added, hesitatingly. “You 
may think it odd that I should question you about 
the matter, but it has worried me considerably, and 
you saw more of Jack about the time it happened than 
anybody else.” She looked at him inquiringly as he 
reseated himself and began to crease the soft felt hat 
with his long, nervous fingers. 

“ I shall be proud and happy to assist you in any 
way,” said he, gallantly. 

“ Of course you will. Well, about three weeks 
ago — to be exact, on the fourteenth of October — 
Jack drew out seventy-five dollars from the Bowery 
Savings Bank. I did not discover it until this morn- 
ing, when I found the bank-book in the upper drawer 
of his bureau. He did not tell me of it at the time, 
nor has he mentioned it since. I am at a loss to 
account for the action, for since that time he has 


164 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

been unusually economical. Do you happen to know 
how he could have used the money, Mr. Tallant ? I 
thought perhaps he might have told you about it.” 

“ I do know very well indeed — I know all about 
it,” Harvey frankly admitted, rising and taking her 
hand in his. “Mrs. Benham, Jack drew out that 
money and loaned it to me. It was his own propo- 
sition, for he found that I was in a tight corner, and 
he was no end of a good fellow about it,” he contin- 
ued, looking earnestly into her eyes. “ I have handed 
him five dollars each week since then, and hope 
to continue at that rate until the sum has been 
returned.” 

“Yes, he had the fifteen dollars in the bank-book,” 
cried Mrs. Benham, joyfully. “It was so like him 
to do a thing like that. I couldn’t understand 
it at first. And now to think that his best friends 
can’t help him in return ! ” she concluded, looking 
up hopefully at the tall, straight figure beside 
her. 

“ But perhaps they can. We should at least do 
our best,” said he, encouragingly. 

“Ah, but even Mr. Mackay suggests dreadful 
things,” she said, in despair. “ And Mr. Billings ! 
he was simply outrageous in his talk.” 

“ You have been there already ? ” 

“ Yes ; Mr. Mackay and I called this afternoon.” 

“What did you think of Mr. Billings, as you call 
him ? ” 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 


I6 5 


Mrs. Benham regarded the speaker attentively. 
“ Why, he tells a very straightforward story,” she 
said. “ Even Mr. Mackay admits that.” 

“ I’ll warrant it’s straightforward,” rejoined Har- 
vey, knitting his brows. 

“And the butler corroborates it in nearly every 
particular,” added the mother. “ Surely, Mr. Tallant, 
there is but one way to settle the question.” 

“By which you mean that Jack must be found 
and have a chance to tell his own story.” 

“ Exactly. Even then there would be many to 
doubt it.” 

“ There’s no denying that. And I suppose the 
police will arrest him ; but that will count for noth- 
ing. He will soon clear himself of their preposter- 
ous charges,” said Harvey, strategically. “You’ll 
see. It will all come out right, Mrs. Benham. Keep 
a good heart. Those men have no desire to harm 
Jack,” he concluded, in an off-hand way. “ All they 
want is to clear themselves and turn the treasure-box 
into cash. It may take some days to do that.” 

“ It is very kind of you to take this view,” she 
said, gratefully, following Harvey out. “ Please come 
again soon.” 

“ Now that’s the way I like to see a woman act — 
brave and sensible,” soliloquised the collector, as he 
sauntered down Third Avenue, little dreaming what 
an exciting night he was to put in on his friend’s 
behalf. The air was blustery, but not cold. Before 


1 66 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

leaving home he had donned an extra heavy suit, and 
had slipped a loaded revolver into his pocket. He 
wore no overcoat, and the night was just sufficiently 
cool to make brisk walking a pleasure. He crossed 
the railroad on the iron bridge at Forty-seventh 
Street and continued over to Fifth Avenue, which 
was filled as usual at this hour with all manner of 
equipages. Harvey caught a glimpse of bediamonded 
women and the white shirt-fronts of their escorts, all 
rolling luxuriously toward the fashionable restaurants, 
the opera-house, or the theatres. This was so dif- 
ferent from the tenement vistas he. confronted daily 
that for several moments he stood spellbound, in- 
tently watching the rumbling line. His attention 
was arrested by a tap on the shoulder, and looking 
round, beheld a portly policeman leisurely swinging 
his long night-club. 

“ Beg pardon, sir, but we have strict orders not to 
allow no loungin’ around here to-night,” said the 
officer, gravely. 

“ How so ? ” queried Harvey, much nettled at being 
thus disturbed. 

“ I suspect it’s this here diamond robbery of 
Colonel Vreeland’s,” confided the officer, agreeably. 
“ Ain’t you read it ? ” 

“ I know all about it. I’m employed in Colonel 
Vreeland’s office, and I’m up here on business.” 

“ So ? ” and the officer regarded him fixedly. “ I 
guess you’ll pass then. You see there’s always a 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 


6 / 


crowd of ‘ rubber-necks ’ around after an affair of this 
kind, and we’ve got to keep ’em moving. There’s a 
lot of ’em already. Watch me start ’em.” 

“ What is your opinion in the matter ? ” asked 
Harvey, lightly, when the officer had rejoined him. 

“Well, a fellow can’t go against as good a plain- 
clothes man as Lance Pemberton, and he was just 
sayin’ the boy’s no doubt made off with the stuff. 
Of course that’s only an idea, but it sounds reason- 
able. The chief has detailed Lance, Tom Jennings, 
and another feller on the case, and they’ve got to 
corner somebody.” 

“ I know. They were down at the office this 
afternoon. Pemberton is too fast in condemning 
Benham.” 

“ Think so, huh ? Well, I don’t know. Who on 
earth would have known anything about it if the 
youngster hadn’t got lippy in the cars, and let on 
what he was carryin’ ? Some one has talked him 
over, you can stake your bottom dollar on it.” 

“That’s a pretty strong argument, I don’t think,” 
said Harvey, ironically. “ Do you know Jasper 
Billings ? ” 

“ I do, indeed. And he’s as foine a man as walks 
the street. He gave Sam Duvall, Pete Whalen, and 
me each a five-spot only last Sunday. ‘ A little cigar 
money,’,, he called it.” 

“That was very considerate of him.” 

« Indeed, it was. And it’s never a hot cup of 


i68 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


coffee he’ll be denyin’ you on a cold night, either. 
He’s a man after my own heart, so Billings is.” 

“ He’s the man I wanted to see,” said Harvey, as 
they neared the mansion. “ Do you suppose he’s in ? ” 

“ Sure, there he is now,” said the officer, pointing 
with his stick. 

“ Oh, he’s busy,” replied Harvey, carelessly. “ He’s 
got company. Why, it’s Mr. Mackay ! ” 

Mr. Mackay and the steward had emerged from 
the storm-doors together. They were in earnest con- 
sultation, and both appeared to be talking at once. 
The bareheaded Billings was gesticulating mildly, as 
a man will do who feels he has the better of an 
argument. Much to Harvey’s relief, the garrulous 
officer now strolled off, and Harvey took this oppor- 
tunity to conceal himself in a friendly shadow. Mr. 
Mackay presently hailed a hansom, and Harvey ob- 
served, with great satisfaction, that he ignored the 
steward’s outstretched hand before parting company. 

In about an hour, or after nine o’clock, Billings 
left the side door, and, looking neither to the right 
nor left, walked toward Sixth Avenue. Harvey’s 
nerves tingled with excitement as he saw him go, 
and yet he had no valid reason for dogging the man’s 
footsteps. “ Surely,” he thought, “ he must consider 
himself under suspicion, or else he must think Mr. 
Mackay a very strange gentleman. He won’t go 
near any confederates to-night, even if he’s had a 
hand in this — that’s one thing certain.” 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 


169 


Harvey was on the opposite side of the street, but 
by hanging slightly in the rear, and avoiding the 
glare of the street-lamps, managed to keep the stew- 
ard located, without running any risk of being seen. 
It is a long block from Fifth to Sixth Avenue, but 
before Harvey noticed it they were approaching the 
dazzling glimmer of the electric lights. Harvey in- 
stinctively hung back, and when he finally did round 
the corner, Billings was nowhere to be seen. Quickly 
comprehending the importance of presenting an out- 
ward appearance of unconcern, the collector turned 
down the avenue, and dodged into the first dark hall- 
way, realising as he did so how ill-equipped he was 
to deal with so clever a criminal. 

“ It’s ridiculous,” he told himself. “I should have 
got a disguise and gone at this thing right. I started 
from home to have a talk with that man, and I 
haven’t had nerve enough to approach him. Guess 
he’s one too many for the whole of us. Wonder 
where’s he dropped to, anyhow.” 

Harvey continued to speculate, finally coming to 
the conclusion that Billings had not left the block. 
By peering cautiously down the street, he could see 
that the store on the corner was occupied by a gen- 
eral dairy product establishment, and that the next 
'was a milliner’s. Billings might have entered the 
first, but, certainly not the second. The next store 
was a third-rate restaurant, with a side entrance 
through the hall. 


1^0 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


As the store adjoining the hallway in which the 
collector stood was unoccupied, Harvey made his way, 
under cover of the black shadow, toward the res- 



taurant, and, with his hat pulled low on his forehead, 
peered over the medley of pies, fancy napkins, and 
lace curtain, into the room. There sat Billings at a 
little round table. He had just swallowed a cup of 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 


17 


strong coffee, of which he was extremely fond, and 
was smacking his lips. He looked tired and pale, 
and had turned his back unceremoniously on two 
young fellows, who had recognised him as Colonel 
Vreeland’s steward, and were disposed to be friendly. 

It was some time before he rose to go, and then 
he chose the side entrance. Harvey feared that he 
would pass out by him, but such was not the man’s 
intention ; for, after gaining the dimly lighted hall, he 
began to climb the stairways, and Harvey was able 
to follow him up three flights by means of the 
peculiar creaking of his varnished boots. 

Harvey found himself in a very difficult position. 
As the stairs were not carpeted, it would have been 
a difficult matter to have followed the steward with- 
out attracting his attention. He finally concluded to 
remove his shoes, trusting to luck that no one would 
feel called upon to demand an explanation of this 
peculiar proceeding. With the buoyancy of youth he 
now looked upon his adventure hopefully, and meant 
to shadow the redoubtable steward as long as the 
man’s conduct continued in the least suspicious. But 
when he reached the head of the third flight of stairs 
he met his first check, for nowhere in any of the five 
vacant rooms on this floor was there any sign of life. 

It was a bit unsettling to the nerves, this roving 
about in the pitchy darkness, but Harvey stuck 
tenaciously to the perplexing task of picking up the 
lost trail, and by degrees it dawned upon him that 


172 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


Mr. Jasper Billings had made his exit by way of 
the roof. 

There was an iron ladder leading to the scuttle, 
but the trap-door was in place, as Harvey could see 
by a single upward glance. On climbing the ladder, 
however, he found that the hooks were not fastened, 
and this strengthened his opinion that the man had 
left by way of the ladder. Very cautiously did 
Harvey raise the trap-door, and peer over the sea 
of tin and low walls, crowned with high chimneys 
and towering black pipes. But Billings was not in 
sight, and, after convincing himself that he had heard 
the man ascend three flights of stairs, Harvey silently 
worked himself out of the hole, and stood upon the 
roof. The wind was moaning dismally, tossing and 
flapping a line of clothes just overhead, in a lively 
manner. But there was absolutely no sign of human 
life along the gloomy house-tops, and it was with 
a very heavy heart that Harvey donned his shoes, 
replaced the trap-door, and continued his investigation. 

He found that several doors leading down into 
other tenements were unlocked, and he descended 
several stairways and looked through many halls 
before he convinced himself that he was wasting 
time. Then he quickly descended to the street and 
again took up his position in the dark hallway by the 
vacant store, all the time keeping a sharp lookout 
up and down the avenue for signs of the missing 
steward. 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 


73 


It seemed to Harvey that he had waited nearly 
two hours when he noticed a heavily bearded man 
emerge from the second hallway on the left and start 
straight across the avenue. The figure was enveloped 
in a long mackintosh of a neutral tint, and though 
the fine head of bushy hair was gray, and the beard 
quite white, the man proceeded briskly on his way. 
In the crisp night air Harvey’s ready ear caught the 
familiar sound of creaking varnished boots, but as 
the man turned his head slightly, the youth’s high 
hopes fell flat ; for no one, he told himself, could be 
more unlike the steward. Still, for want of some- 
thing better to do, and to satisfy any lingering 
doubts, he decided to keep the figure in sight. 

This was more easily planned than done, for upon 
rounding the first corner the man at once stepped 
into a cab in waiting, and was driven rapidly through 
Forty-sixth Street — so rapidly, in fact, that Harvey 
was forced to sprint lively in order to keep the four- 
wheeler in sight. At Seventh Avenue the cab swung 
to the north, and Harvey was obliged to step on 
a car to regain his breath. The vehicle was but a 
little distance in advance at Fifty-ninth Street, and 
still the driver kept his horses at a smart trot. There 
are always a number of Tabs to be had at the circle 
entrance to the park, and by dint of some clever 
dodging and sprinting Harvey managed to reach one 
in advance of the team he had been pursuing. His 
breath was pretty well spent by this time, but he 


74 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


succeeded in gasping out, as he pointed through the 
gloom toward the four-wheeler : 

“ See that cab ? I want you to keep it in sight ; 
but don’t go too near. I want to keep the passenger 
in sight — understand ? ” 

The cabman gazed keenly at the other’s nervous, 
flushed face. 

“ What’s in it ?” said he, shrewdly. 

“ Three dollars an hour, if you do your work well.” 

At this the man scrambled to the box and whipped 
up before Harvey was fairly seated. As the latter 
had expected, the cab in which the unknown had 
taken passage now turned into the park, and was 
followed at a respectful distance by the other. The 
drive through the park was fast and uneventful, both 
vehicles emerging from the Seventy-seventh Street 
entrance in less than twenty minutes. To Harvey’s 
surprise the cabman drew up at the corner of Colum- 
bus Avenue, and, as Harvey dropped the window, 
turned in his seat and spoke guardedly to his 
passenger. 

“ Say, that night-hawk’s come to the end of his 
run,” said he. “ His fare’s quit him.” 

“ Where did he go ? ” 

“ He’s walkin’ down the street. Shall I kind of 
jog along behind ? ” 

“ Yes, but don’t lose him. He’s liable to drop 
through a coal-hole if you’re not careful,” said 
Harvey, whose hopes were rising rapidly again. 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 1 75 

“ I’ll keep my lamps on him,” said the driver, 
sententiously, as he started his horses on a walk. 

The object of Harvey’s attention evidently had no 
suspicion that he was being shadowed, for on nearing 
Amsterdam Avenue he leisurely mounted a brown- 
stone stoop and disappeared between the plate-glass 
doors. The driver kept on to the corner and turned 
into the avenue before he pulled up. 

“ Your man’s went in the second house from the 
flat, on this side,” the cabman explained to Harvey. 
“ Will you want me to wait on you ? ” 

“The second house from the flat, on this side,” 
repeated Harvey, irrelevantly. “What kind of a 
house was it ? ” 

The man shrugged his shoulders. “ Couldn’t say, 
boss,” said he. 

“Well, you go and walk past, and see if you can 
make out anything,” suggested Harvey, who feared 
that even in the gloom his tall figure might attract 
undue attention, should the person prove to be 
Billings, after all. “ See if you can find out if it’s a 
lodging-house.” 

“Not much I don’t, sonny,” objected the cabman, 
suspiciously. “ Fork over two dollars, now, or I’ll 
call a ‘cop.’ ” 

“ Oh, here’s your money,” said Harvey, who was 
too much encouraged over his progress to re- 
sent any such insinuations. He counted out the 
money in silver, which the man pocketed without 


176 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

comment. “ Now, will you kindly have a look ? ” 
be asked. 

“ Who’s to watch my hosses ? ’’ demanded the other. 
“ Say, sonny, don’t try to run a ‘ sandy ’ on me, ’cause 
it won’t go — see ? ” 

“ Pshaw ! I don’t want your horses,” replied the 
collector, impatiently. “Are you going to have a 
look for me or not ? ” 

“ How much is the job worth ? ” 

“Fifty cents.” 

“Well, I’ll go you,” the man agreed, jumping from 
the box. He lit a cigar, blanketed the horses, and 
snapped a drag to the off horse’s bit, while Harvey 
kept a lookout up the side street. 

“Don’t stop before the house,” advised Harvey, 
as the man started off. “I’ll give you a dollar if 
you find out all about it.” 

The cabman grinned from ear to ear at this last 
offer. “ Must be ‘ dead roots ’ on his whiskers,” he 
soliloquised. “ But I can’t be wastin’ no time over 
this loony business, so I’ll just ring the cook’s bell, 
and give her a good stiff argument. Here goes ! ” 
and he ran down the short flight of steps to the 
gate and pulled the brass hook connecting with 
the bell wire. There was a merry jingling, and then 
the sound of approaching footsteps. 

“ Excuse me, leddy,” began the cabman, briskly, as a 
servant appeared, “ but is this here a boarding-house ? 
I’ve got a gent in my cab that was lookin’ one up.” 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 


177 


“It’s no common boarding-house, thank you,” 
snapped the female, who was not very favourably 
impressed with the late caller ; “ but Mrs. Swinner- 
ton has a few rooms to rent to gentlemen, with table- 
board if they want it.” 

“ Thanks, leddy, I’ll tell the gent,” and with a grin 
and an awkward bow the cabman hurried back to 
Harvey. 

“ It’s a gents’ furnished-room house with board on 
the side, and it’s run by a Mrs. Swinnerton,” said he, 
suggestively extending his broad palm. 

“ Who told you that ? ” 

“ I asked the girl at the basement gate,” he an- 
swered, conscious of having come to a quick and 
satisfactory decision. “ I said I had a gent in my 
cab who was lookin’ up a room.” 

“ Good — couldn’t be better ! ” exclaimed Harvey. 
“ Here’s the money. I’ll not need you any more 
to-night.” 

“Say, when you do want another rig, just remem- 
ber I’m always on call at the old stand,” said the 
cabman, folding the huge blankets in a very capable 
sort of way. 

“ I’ll do so. What name did you say ? ” 

“ Phil Duffy, number 928.” 

“All right,” said Harvey, as the man clicked 
to his horses. “ Now I wonder if it’s too late to 
make a call on Mrs. Swinnerton,” he soliloquised, 
rneditatively. He glanced at the clock in the 


178 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

corner grocery. “ Half-past eleven ; pretty late, 
but the coast ought to be clear, and perhaps the 
landlady is still about.” Having donned his 
gloves and felt of his scarf, he walked boldly up 
the stairs and pressed the bell - button. The door 
was presently opened by a maid, and Harvey 
entered. 

“Is Mrs. Swinnerton in?” 

“Yes, sir. Are you the gentleman who was look- 
ing for a room ? ” 

“ I am. Have you any to rent ? ” 

“ One on the top floor, sir. Step inside, and I’ll tell 
Mrs. Swinnerton.” She indicated the parlour at the 
left, and drew the portieres. 

Harvey seated himself, and, after a short delay, 
during which he heard the sound of whispering in 
the upper hall, the landlady appeared. She was a 
short, garrulous, gray-haired little lady, with a pleas- 
ant face and mild gray eyes. 

“You were looking for a room?” she began, 
tentatively. 

“Yes, madam,” replied Harvey, feeling that 
he was well warranted in his deception. “ It is 
rather late, I know ; but, being on the West Side, 
I thought I would look in and see what you had 
to offer.” 

“And what did you expect to pay ?” she inquired, 
regarding him candidly. “ My rooms are all nicely 
furnished, and I have only the best class of people. 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 1 79 

You would have to furnish me exceptional references, 
sir.” 

“ I usually pay about three dollars a week for a 
furnished room, and I can give you some good refer- 
ences,” said Harvey, simply. 

“ Would you pay in advance every week ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ That is well. I have at present but three lodgers, 
and one pays in advance by the month. It is my 
invariable rule.” 

“And a very safe one,” agreed Harvey. “Are 
your lodgers all young men like myself ? I am fond 
of a certain amount of society, but am little known 
in this part of the city.” 

“ I am afraid you will be disappointed in that. 
'Two are travelling salesmen, and the other is an 
old gentleman of whom I see even less. He sel- 
dom uses his room except as a library, and he’s very 
unsociable.” 

“ A bookworm ? ” 

“ It’s hard to say, sir, for he tends the room him- 
self, and was very angry with Jennie — she’s the maid 
who let you in — for dusting his things one day. Now 
he always keeps the door locked, whether he’s in or 
out.” 

“Then pray do not introduce me, since he’s so 
very unsociable,” said Harvey, with commendable 
coolness. 

“ I wouldn’t dare to, sir. To tell the truth, I don’t 


180 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

like the man, but he pays so well I’m glad to have 
him.” 

“ I don’t mind being on the same floor with him,” 
ventured Harvey. 

“As I have but the one room to spare, that is 
where you will have to be, should you conclude to 
take it,” she said, smiling pleasantly. “Would you 
care to see it to-night ? ” 

“Yes, we may as well settle it at once,” said 
Harvey, rising. “What is the price?” 

“Three dollars a week,” she answered, leading 
the way up the carpeted stairs. 

“ If I like the room, that will be satisfactory,” 
Harvey said, in reply. 

Mrs. Swinnerton went up three flights, conducting 
her applicant to a comfortable room in the front of 
the house. As the gas was lighted, Harvey judged 
that the maid had anticipated their visit. 

“This is the room,” said the landlady, “and that 
is Mr. Bryson’s,” she added, pointing down the hall 
and speaking in a whisper. “ His is just the same 
size, but he is a nervous man, and preferred the one 
with the fire-escape.” 

“ I see. How long has Mr. Bryson been with 
you ? ” 

“ Over six months now, and I haven’t said sixty 
words to him in all that time. It’s just 4 Good morn- 
ing,’ or ‘Good evening,’ or on the first it’s ‘Here’s 
the room rent, Mrs. Swinnerton, please give me a 


HARVEY GETS A CLUE 1 8 1 

receipt.’ And that’s all I ever see or hear of the 
man.” 

“ Doesn’t he visit his room often ? ” 

“ Sometimes not for a whole month,” confessed 
the landlady. “ I sometimes think I ought to reduce 
his rent.” 

“Well, I’ll take this room, anyhow,” said Harvey, 
as he paid over a week’s rent. “And if you don’t 
mind, Mrs. Swinnerton, I’d like to occupy it to- 
night.” He felt convinced that he had tracked the 
nefarious steward to his lair, and it was with an 
effort that he had assumed a casual tone in making 
the last request. He listened intently for her reply, 
but the woman seemed surprised, and hesitated 
before answering. 

“It’s so late, I’m afraid the night won’t be of 
much use to me if I start for my room now,” pleaded 
the collector. 

“You seem to be an honest sort of. boy, and I 
guess you can stay,” replied the landlady, on whom 
the money was having a salutary effect. “But you 
must give me your name and references, as I’d like 
to make inquiries to-morrow.” 

“ My name is George Stewart,” said Harvey, 
quickly recalling the name of a tenant, as he had 
good reasons for concealing his own. He wrote 
down several references, acquaintances of his father, 
whom he meant to post the next morning before the 
landlady could see them. She seemed satisfied with 


1 82 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

the list, and, after bidding him good night, quietly 
descended the stairs. Harvey at once closed the 
door, turned down the gas, and began to consider 
the serious problem before him. 



CHAPTER X. 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 

“ TF my fellow lodger proves to be Jasper Billings, 
-L as I verily believe he will, I’ve got my hands 
full,” thought Harvey, mechanically reaching for his 
revolver. “There’s no use denying it, this is very 
ticklish business.” 

Harvey could not but realise the fact that thus far 
he had been favoured with exceptional luck. He 
recalled how he had missed the steward on Sixth 
Avenue, and how he had located him in the chop- 
house, afterward following him to the roof. This 
last action alone was enough to condemn the man in 
Harvey’s mind, and convinced him that Billings must 
have had a room in the block where he had changed 
his top-coat for the mackintosh, and had added the 
hirsute appendages. The familiar creaking of his 
varnished boots and a certain swing to the walk had 
arrested Harvey’s attention at once, and, as he re- 
called the subsequent pursuit of the four-wheeler 
and Mrs. Swinnerton’s words, he felt very sure of 
his man. 

183 


184 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


But it was hard to explain why Billings had chosen 
to visit his secret quarters so soon after Jack’s 
disappearance. This was a problem that baffled 
Harvey’s clever reasoning. Always assuming that 
the man had had a hand in the robbery, could it be 
possible that he would run any such risks of being 
shadowed ? It was true that he had eluded pursuit 
by his little trip over the housetops, but on emerging 
into the street again, cleverly disguised though he 
was, he had taken no particular pains to baffle 
observation. He had walked boldly into the glare 
of the street lights, and had stepped into the four- 
wheeler. 

Why had he been driven so rapidly through the 
streets and park ? Surely, there was a world of 
time on his hands, though, if the man considered 
himself under suspicion, it was probable that he 
meant to return to the mansion as soon as possible. 
Then another thought struck Harvey very forcibly : 
could it be possible that the steward had come for 
the plunder, and meant to leave town that very 
night ? It was certainly not unlikely. Mr. Mackay’s 
manner had been anything but assuring, and doubt- 
less the miscreant had begun to lose his nerve. Still, 
Harvey told himself on mature reflection that to leave 
so suddenly and unexpectedly would be tantamount 
to a confession of guilt, — he would undoubtedly 
decide to remain and face the matter out. 

The mere fact of his having two clandestine lodg- 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 1 85 

ings looked very bad. He had taken the room from 
Mrs. Swinnerton under an assumed name six months 
before, doubtless with the intention of making use 
of it as occasion demanded. He had obviously worn 
the snowy beard and gray wig whenever he had 
appeared at the house, and, according to the land- 
lady’s own words, had paid his rent promptly in 
advance, and had avoided all unnecessary conversa- 
tion. All this strengthened Harvey’s opinion, but, 
on recalling what he had read in the first edition of 
the Telegram , he concluded that Billings had not 
left the mansion after Jack’s departure the evening 
previous, which conclusion the reader knows to be 
wrong. 

“ I wish I knew if that rascal was here last night,” 
Harvey reflected, “and at what time. If he was 
here, I’ll stake my old shoes that those diamonds 
came with him. He’s come to-night to take them 
off, and he’ll slip out before I know it.” 

Harvey hastily pulled off his shoes and cautiously 
opened the door. The gas in the hall was burning 
low, but he turned it off at once. The doors to the 
two hall bedrooms were closed, as was also the door 
to Mr. Bryson’s room. All was as still as death 
within, and, save for the occasional rumble of a coach 
or the slam of a coach-door, it would have been the 
same without. 

In his impatience to satisfy himself that the man 
had not left, Harvey crept down the hallway on all- 


1 86 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

fours and very cautiously put his ear to the crack 
below the door. He could not see that there was a 
light in the room nor could he hear the slightest 
sound. He raised himself slightly and tried the key- 
hole, but again he was disappointed. 

“They’re close quarters — you can bet on that,” 
he soliloquised, and was about to turn back to his 
room, when he heard a slight cough and a low, sup- 
pressed chuckle from the occupant within. “ Have 
I heard that voice before ? ” he queried. “If I was 
sure, I’d knock on this door and have it out in a 
hurry.” 

Now Harvey was no coward, but the more he 
thought about it, the less he liked the idea. “ I’ll 
bet that fellow’s on the shoot, and wouldn’t waste 
any words. I wonder if this door is locked,” he 
considered, turning his attention to the hall bed- 
room door, which he could just see in the dim light 
from the lower hall. Very skilfully did he try the 
knob, but the door failed to yield. “ Must be some 
way of getting a glimpse of that room,” he con- 
cluded, starting back on all-fours for his own quar- 
ters. Noticing a door at his right, he raised up and 
turned the knob. The door was locked, but luckily 
the key was attached to a little chain. He therefore 
entered without delay, and found himself, as he had 
expected, in a small storeroom filled with trunks, 
travelling-bags, and the usual clutter of discarded 
objects. 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 1 87 

To his surprise, he noticed that the ladder leading 
to the scuttle was located in this room, and by strik- 
ing a match he made out the scuttle itself. Eight 
or ten trunk-straps, done up in neat coils, had been 
placed upon the board rungs of the ladder. It in- 
stantly occurred to Harvey that he might string 
these together and make a rope sufficiently strong 
to let himself down on the fire-escape in the rear of 
the house. 

He began at once to buckle and further strengthen 
the leather straps with good, stiff knots, after which 
he climbed the ladder and struck another match to 
assure himself that there were no wires leading from 
the scuttle to a burglar-alarm below. Having satis- 
fied himself on this point, he knocked the iron hooks 
from their sockets and lifted the heavy scuttle with 
his head and hands, pulling the long leather rope 
after him. 

It was a bold and dangerous proceeding, but he 
did not hesitate an instant, for fear that the man 
would slip down the stairs in his absence. Taking 
good care not to cross the roof above the room occu- 
pied by the object of his unsolicited attentions, Har- 
vey worked over to the coping as quietly as it was 
possible to do, considering the tendency of the tin 
to creak and snap despite all precautions. 

He had coiled the string of trunk-straps before 
starting, and as he reached the edge of the roof he 
dropped the end off. He could just make out the 


1 88 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


fire-escape, which seemed to include the houses on 
either side of Mrs. Swinnerton’s. He could easily 
tell when the strap touched the iron-work, and by 
measuring the thong as he drew it in, reckoned the 
distance to be about twelve feet. The fire-escape 
was narrow and looked very frail in the gloom, but 
this did not deter the adventurous youth from cast- 
ing about for a suitable object to which to fasten the 
end of the thong. 

Though there were several short pipe-ends jutting 
above the coping that crowned the party-wall, Har- 
vey concluded that the safest plan would be to take 
a turn around the entire brick chimney. Having 
done so, he took hold of the strap-ends, and, bracing 
his feet against the wall and coping of the neighbour- 
ing house, leaned back in a superhuman effort to part 
the thong. The knots gave slightly, as expected, but 
the leather stood the test well. 

Harvey was satisfied that his weight could not 
equal the strain he had put the straps to, and having 
crossed the adjoining roof again, cautiously dropped 
the ends off, taking good care to keep them to the 
right of the hall bedroom window. He then exam- 
ined the knots again, and, finding them secure and 
hard-drawn, took hold of the two strands at once and 
peered down through the fire-escapes to the little 
yard sixty feet below. Owing to the slight over- 
hang of the roof and the metal gutter, the fire-escapes 
seemed to be even narrower than they really were. 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 1 89 

It made Harvey shiver, and he again gave his atten- 
tion to the thong. As it was sufficiently long, he 
decided to knot it about the chimney, so that, in case 
of one strand parting between him and the chimney, 
the other might still support his weight. 

When all was ready, he began to let himself over 
the gutter feet first. As soon as his full weight 
came on the thongs, the metal gutter began to bend 
and groan in a most annoying way. It seemed to 
Harvey to be making a deafening noise, and even in 
that perilous position he wondered how the lodger 
would act should he feel inclined to open the window 
and investigate the sounds. But nothing of the kind 
happened, and, after a brief period of awful suspense, 
Harvey felt the cold iron bars of the fire-escape with 
his stocking feet. He let go the thongs gradually, 
but, on finding that the iron- work was in good condi- 
tion, tucked them under the drain-pipe connecting 
with the gutter. 

The hall bedroom window was securely bolted on 
the inside, and the shutters were also closed. It 
was quite reasonable to assume that the room was 
unoccupied, and was probably rented to one of the 
travelling salesmen the landlady had mentioned. Har- 
vey therefore had nothing to fear from this quarter, 
and could give his undivided attention to the two 
windows of Mr. Bryson’s room. Stretching himself 
out at full length on the gridiron balcony, he wormed 
his way toward the first window, where he listened 


9 o 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


intently, with his head on a level with the stone sill. 
Not the slightest sound issued from the room. To 
add to Harvey’s disappointment, the window was so 
screened as to shut off all light from within. There 
was nothing left for him to do but to try the adjoin- 
ing window, and toward this he began to creep with- 
out delay. 

To his unalloyed delight, he saw that there was 
a light within, and therefore judged that the lodger 
had not yet departed. The window was bolted, the 
lower half being screened by heavy brown paste- 
board, the upper half by a dark window-shade. Har- 
vey could see that the strongest bar of light sifted 
through the narrow fringe of curtain about the middle 
of the window. By standing on his tiptoes he found 
that he could just see into the room, which was neatly 
furnished, containing among other things a folding-bed, 
a bookcase, and some tasty articles of bric-a-brac. 

At first Harvey could not locate the occupant, but 
presently, not five feet from him, there loomed the 
unmistakable form of Jasper Billings. He had 
donned a pair of soft slippers, and, with his hands 
clasped behind him, and his head tipped slightly for- 
ward, was pacing the bright rug that served as a 
carpet. He was evidently in a brown study, for he 
frowned and smiled a silky smile by turns. On a 
chair hard by lay the long mackintosh, while upon 
a small table Harvey observed with a strong feeling 
of revulsion the snowy beard and gray wig. 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 191 

“He’s one of the most contemptible knaves I ever 
heard of,” thought the eavesdropper, as he drew his 
revolver and cocked the trigger. “I’m going to see 
what’s what before I leave this spot ; and if he 
begins to shoot lead this way, I’ll send some back.” 

Whenever Billings turned toward him, Harvey 
instantly dropped his head. The latter found it a 
hard matter to remain for any length of time on tip- 
toe, as the iron bars were thin, and cut into his feet. 
He therefore removed his coat, and by folding it 
compactly, and placing it across the bars, raised 
himself the necessary distance. Billings was still 
pacing restlessly to and fro when Harvey got back 
to his post, but suddenly he wheeled on his heel and 
came straight for the window at which the collector 
stood. 

Harvey dropped from sight and stretched himself 
below the sill, momentarily expecting to hear the 
window raised or the shade lowered. But he heard 
neither. Instead, however, he detected, after some 
ten minutes’ dead silence, the very faint sound of 
hammering on the wall by his side. This was fol- 
lowed by a dull scraping and rasping, and then all 
was still again. After another long wait Harvey 
raised himself and ventured to glance into the room, 
the revolver always at full cock in his right hand. 

He will never forget the sight that met his eyes 
as he peered through the fringe of curtain. For 
there sat the steward at the small table before men- 


92 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


tioned, and before him were spread the Vreeland 
jewels in dazzling array. Billings appeared to be 
making an inventory of them, for there were several 
long sheets of paper and a pencil on the table, and 
when Harvey first looked in he was writing some- 
thing at the top of one of the sheets. He picked 
over and sorted the rings, brooches, etc., and made 
some further entries. Then he reached down to the 
floor, where the beard and wig lay scattered, and 
took the rope of pearls from the casket. He counted 
and examined the stones with the air of an experi- 
enced lapidary, after which he made a series of 
figures across the paper. 

By this time Harvey was so intensely excited that 
he could scarcely retain his self-control. He wished 
himself back in the hallway, back in the street, in 
almost any place except on that framework of iron. 
He thought of continuing along the fire-escape until 
he reached the adjoining house, but feared that at 
that late hour he might be mistaken for a burglar. 
Even if he were not, his presence there would occa- 
sion no little surprise, and might lead to an unpleas- 
ant investigation. 

“No, I’ll have to climb- that strap,” he soliloquised, 
putting away his weapon, and shaking out his coat. 
“ So here goes ! ” 

He struggled into his coat, stretched out his 
arms to start the circulation, and crawled over to 
the drain-pipe. He took hold of the thongs and 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 1 93 

again tested them severely. They seemed to with- 
stand his quick, nervous tugs without any noticeable 
giving, and after a brief pause he shut his teeth, took 
a long breath, and began the ascent, hand over hand. 
Just before reaching the gutter he felt the thongs 
stretching, but managed to get his right arm on the 
roof before they began to part. He made some 
little racket in getting his leg over the gutter, but 
when this was accomplished the rest was easy. Pant- 
ing from his exertions, trembling and wet with per- 
spiration, he wormed his way back to the chimney, 
where he sat down on the edge of the coping, and 
mopped his face. 

After a short rest he loosened the line from the 
chimney and endeavoured to untie the knots, but he 
found that they had been drawn so taut that he could 
not start them. He was extremely anxious to get 
back to his room, too, for it was impossible to say at 
what moment Billings would decide to leave the 
house. He wisely concluded to forego the task 
of separating the trunk-straps that had stood him in 
such good stead, and, after coiling the line, descended 
the ladder and replaced the scuttle. Hiding the coil 
in a large hamper, he locked the storeroom door and 
tiptoed to his room. He guessed that he had not 
been gone more than ten minutes from the fire-escape, 
and that the steward could not have finished his in- 
ventory, packed the gems, and made his exit in that 
time. 


194 TW0 boys in the blue ridge 

Harvey drew a chair to the door, where he could 
watch the stairway, and put on his shoes. As may 
be imagined, he was in the best of spirits, and de- 
cided to wait until the man left before he made 
another move. In case Billings was seen to be 
carrying a satchel or package of any kind, Harvey 
determined to follow after and demand his arrest of 
the first policeman he happened to meet. The col- 
lector had no fears of the man escaping in a cab, for 
he was a swift runner, and knew that he could keep 
a vehicle in sight as he had done before. 

It must not be supposed that Harvey had forgotten 
the peculiar rasping and scraping he had heard while 
stretched upon the fire-escape, or that he failed to 
attach sufficient importance to the same. The more 
he thought of it, the more firmly convinced he be- 
came that Billings meant to leave his lodgings empty- 
handed, and to return to Colonel Vreeland’s. 

This proved to be the case, for in about an hour 
Harvey heard the door open and the man descend 
the stairs. As soon as he heard the front door close 
to, he hurried down the three flights of stairs him- 
self and stumbled through the gloomy lower hall out 
on to the box-stoop. Billings was already fifty yards 
off, and had turned in the direction of Columbus 
Avenue. It was too dark to see whether or not he 
carried a package or valise, but Harvey made out that 
he still wore the rain-coat. The collector kept at a 
very safe distance, and, as the steward approached 


HARVEY FHMDS THE CASKET 1 95 

the lighted corner, saw that he swung his arms freely, 
and that his hands held nothing. But to Harvey’s 
annoyance, the man did not board a cable-car, but 
stepped into a cab, which started at once toward the 
park. 

“ The old story,” thought Harvey. “He’ll make 
for his Sixth Avenue joint, and from there he’ll go to 
Vreeland’s. Guess I may as well take the car down, 
for I’ve got the old rascal dead to rights.” 

Harvey reached his destination a little in advance 
of the cab, which was driven up to the corner from 
which Billings had started. The collector guessed it 
to be the identical four-wheeler, for when the dis- 
guised steward stepped out, he and the cabman held 
a lengthy argument, during which Billings was thrice 
seen to pass money to the night-hawk. 

Harvey had stationed himself in the darkened hall- 
way by the vacant store, and was not much surprised 
when the bearded figure crossed the avenue and 
entered the chop-house. The man must only have 
swallowed a cup of coffee, for he emerged in about 
ten minutes, passing before Harvey, and entering the 
second hallway to the left, from which he emerged as 
Jasper Billings, the steward, in less than an hour, 
beardless and wigless, and clad in a natty top-coat 
and flat-crowned hat. As he turned the first corner 
and proceeded toward the mansion, Harvey heard a 
near-by clock strike three. 

Though the air was decidedly chilly, Harvey did 


196 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

not seem to notice it. Notwithstanding his excite- 
ment and the intense satisfaction he felt at the out- 
come of his night’s work, he was ravenously hungry, 
and boarded the first car for Herald Square, where 
he entered a popular restaurant that is largely pat- 
ronised by newspaper men and theatre-goers. 

“Bring me an English mutton-chop rare and a 
baked potato,” said he, succinctly, as he turned down 
the coat collar and hung up his hat. 

“And coffee?” the waiter suggested. 

“Yes, coffee, of course.” 

He rubbed his chilled hands and glanced about the 
genial interior at the familiar oil-paintings by well- 
known artists. He recalled every detail of his mid- 
night adventure at the lodging-house, and told himself 
that he must return before daybreak and occupy his 
bed for awhile at least in order to keep his landlady 
unsuspicious. 

There seemed no need of informing the police of 
his discovery, and Harvey was too shrewd to surrender 
hard-earned laurels without good and sufficient rea- 
sons. He believed that he could handle the matter 
as well as any member of the official force, and con- 
cluded to make no disclosures to any one, although 
he decided to make a call on Mr. Mackay before 
starting for Mrs. Swinnerton’s. Further meditations 
were rudely interrupted by the noisy entry of four or 
five young fellows, among whom Harvey noticed Jim 
McPherson. The party had evidently been to the 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 


I 9 ; 


theatre, and were out for what they considered a good 
time. McPherson presently recognised Harvey, and, 
pushing his friends before him, was soon shaking 
hands more warmly than the occasion seemed to 
demand. 

“These are my friends, Tallant,” said he, cordially. 
“ Allow me to introduce Mr. Greyhurst,” he continued, 
with some indecision, “ and Charley Courtney. This 
little fellow is Hugh Troescher — never met before ? ” 

“ Never,” said Harvey, shaking hands perfunctorily. 
“These are late hours for you, Jim.” 

“ Oh, that’s nothing,” McPherson responded, wav- 
ing a feeble dissent. “Tell us about your progress, 
Tallant. I’ve been telling the boys that you’ve turned 
into a full-fledged sleuth. How do you like it ? ” 

“It’s not so bad,” said Harvey, evasively. 

“ Have you any idea what could have become of 
that chap Benham and all those diamonds ? ” asked 
the stout fellow who had been first introduced. “ I 
am following the case in the papers myself.” 

“I believe that the jewels are still in the city,” 
said Harvey, civilly. 

“Good!” cried McPherson, striking the table 
sharply with his walking-stick. “ Tall ant’s got a 
clue.” 

“ Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! ” expostulated the head 
waiter, with unmistakable decision, as he arranged 
four chairs about Harvey’s table and spread out the 
menu. “ Have you ordered ? ” 


198 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

“ What are you going to eat, Tallant ? ” demanded 
McPherson, scowling at the menu. 

“ I have already ordered,” said Harvey, stiffly. 

“ Will you have a drink, then ? ” 

“ I have given up liquor.” 

McPherson smiled incredulously? 

“ Really ? ” he asked. 

“ It’s a fact,” said Harvey, steadily. 

“ Well, have something, boys,” continued McPher- 
son, turning to his friends. 

“ Oh, we’ll take beer all around,” said little Troes- 
cher, lighting a cigarette. “ I’ll have a rarebit, Mack.” 

“ Me, too,” said Courtney. 

“ Make it three,” said Greyhurst, and McPherson 
gave the order to the waiter that brought in Harvey’s 
chop. 

“You will excuse me, I’m sure,” begged Harvey, 
as he broke the steaming potato. “ I’m in a hurry, 
and I’m hungry.” 

“That’s right — sing into it,” said McPherson, tip- 
ping back in his chair with lack-lustre eyes. “Now 
tell us, Tallant, if we can be of any assistance to you 
in your researches — hey, boys ? We’ll trot right 
along behind you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes ! ” 

McPherson laughed immoderately at his shallow 
witticism. Harvey was much annoyed, and dug his 
fork into the thick chop, but ventured no response. 

“Join us in one drink, and we’ll go with you to the 
ends of the earth,” pursued Troescher. 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 


199 


“ Positively, no,” replied Harvey, covering the 
glass with the palm of his hand as the waiter began 
pouring out the beer. 

“This is my last,” said McPherson, who, notwith- 
standing his somewhat tipsy condition, began to feel 
ashamed of himself. “ Going to work to-morrow, 
Tallant ? ” 

“I think I shall,” said Harvey, briefly. 

“ Good. I’ll not feel like doing any extra running 
for a day or two. By Jove ! it’s nearly four o’clock ! 
Who’d have thought it was so late ! ” 

“ It is late,” Courtney agreed. “ I say, waiter, 
hurry up that order.” 

The rarebits were soon brought in, and another 
pitcher of beer was ordered before they were finished. 

“Give me the checks,” said McPherson to the 
waiter, as Harvey excused himself and rose. 

“Nonsense,” said Harvey, reaching for his check. 
“I’ve got mine handy, Mack.” 

He took the check to the cashier and paid it. 
McPherson, after tipping the waiter, followed behind 
him and paid the check for himself and his three 
friends, which amounted to an even two dollars. 
“That knocks a day’s work to bits,” thought Harvey, 
who happened to know that McPherson’s salary was 
fifteen dollars a week. “ Mack will find that it 
doesn’t pay to hold your end up on nothing and 
play the good fellow. I’ve learned that’s a poor 
way to get on in the world.” 


200 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


They all went out in the street together, where 
they parted company. Harvey boarded a Columbus 
Avenue car, and was rapidly carried up-town. Leav- 
ing the car at Eighty-sixth Street, he walked across 
to West End Avenue, and ran up the steps of his 
employer’s residence. He kept his thumb against 
the bell-button until he heard some sounds above. 

“ What on earth do you want ? ” demanded a mas- 
culine voice, none too hospitably. 

Harvey descended to the angle in the stoop and 
peered upward but in the pitch darkness preceding 
the dawn it was impossible to make out the line of 
the house against the sky. 

“ Is Mr. Mackay in ? I want to see Mr. Mackay 
right off.” 

“ And who might you be ? ” called the first speaker, 
who didn’t relish the idea of being routed out at that 
hour. 

“ I’m Mr. Mackay’s clerk, and I’ve got important 
news for him,” Harvey called back. 

“ Was he expectin’ you, sir ? ” 

“ No, but he’ll be glad to see me. You just tell 
him Harvey Tallant wants to see him on important 
business at once.” 

“All right, sir. I’ll be down to the door as quick 
as I’ve seen him,” came the assuring reply. 

Harvey sat down on the coping and waited pa- 
tiently. In a short while the butler opened the outer 
doors. “ You’re to come right in, sir,” said he, 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 


201 


respectfully. He had lighted the hall gas, and now 
lighted the gas-logs in the little reception-room at 
the left. Harvey toasted his hands before the cheer- 
ful blaze, and considered what he should say to his 
employer, who was some little time in dressing. He 
was finally heard descending the stairs, at which 
Harvey instinctively arose. 

“ Good gracious, Tallant ! ” cried the broker, who 
had clearly nerved himself for bad news. “What 
under heaven brings you here at this hour?” 

“ I’ve got track of the casket, sir,” said Harvey, 
standing with his back to the fire, and his fingers 
interlaced behind him. 

“You have!” ejaculated the broker, amazedly. 
“ And what news of young Benham ? ” 

“None, sir.” 

“Too bad — too bad. I feared as much,” said he, 
regretfully. “ But tell me, when did you find this 
out ? ” 

“A couple of hours ago. I’m pretty sure I know 
where the jewels are hidden.” 

“You have good grounds for such a statement ? ” 

“ The very best, sir, but I am not prepared to give 
you details just now.” 

“ It’s just as you like about that, Tallant. But 
please tell me one thing more. You suspect no one 
connected with our office ? ” 

“ No, indeed, sir.” 

“ I knew it ! ” cried the broker, with a long sigh of 


202 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


relief. Then, brightening up, “ Tallant, you mustn’t 
blunder, my boy.” 

“ There’s little chance for that, and I have come to 
make but one request of you.” 

“ Anything you like. Fire away.” 

“I want you to get around to Colonel Vreeland’s 
some time after breakfast, and go over the case with 
Jasper Billings,” said Harvey, enigmatically. 

“But I’ve heard all the man has to say.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” persisted Harvey, “you must 
hear it again.” 

“ Really, Tallant, I fail to see how that can help 
matters ; but, as I expect Colonel Vreeland upon 
an early train, I will do as you request. Anything 
else ? ” 

“Yes. Can you get word to Lance Pemberton?” 

At the mention of the detective’s name, Mr. 
Mackay jumped from his seat and took Harvey by 
the shoulders. 

“You suspect that man Billings?” he cried, ex- 
citedly. “ Are your suspicions well founded ? ” 

Harvey nodded assent, and for a full minute the 
broker was too amazed to speak. 

“We’ll have everything fixed as you say. I’ll have 
Benham’s mother there, and an officer in the house. 
Tallant, this will be a big thing for you. The scoun- 
drel ! ” he muttered, in conclusion. 

“ I’ve had some great good luck, and I feel pretty 
sure of my man,” said Harvey, modestly. 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 


203 


“ It’s too good to be true,” said the broker, enthu- 
siastically. “ When do you think you can bring 
matters to a head ? ” 

“ Some time before noon. I wouldn’t say a word 
to anybody, Mr. Mackay, or the man will see it on 
your faces and pull out — he’s a sly bird.” 

“ I’ll not mention it, on my honour. Where is he 
now ? ” 

“ At the house, and I want you to keep him there.” 

“ He’ll stay, rest assured of that. Now you’re quite 
sure you can swing your end alone ? ” 

“ Perfectly.” 

‘‘Then good luck and good-bye.” He wrung Har- 
vey’s hand warmly as they parted at the door, and 
was profuse in his thanks. 

In less than a half-hour Harvey was back in the 
boarding-house, the maid having admitted him. Pie 
took off his shoes and crawled into bed for the sake 
of appearances, but left the door ajar, and listened 
intently for any sounds in the hall. About seven 
o’clock he arose and rang for his breakfast, which 
the servant brought him on a small salver. When she 
had left, he slipped down the hall and tried the door 
of “ Mr. Bryson’s ” room. As expected, it was locked, 
but Harvey noticed that no extra spring-lock had 
been fitted, as he feared there had been. He re- 
moved the storeroom key from its little chain, but 
neither this nor the key to his own room would turn 
the lock. 


204 TWO B0YS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

As a consequence, he was forced to wait until after 
nine o’clock, at which hour he concluded Mr. Mackay 
would make his appearance at Colonel Vreeland’s 
and monopolise the steward’s time. Soon after nine 
by the clock on the mantel, he left Mrs. Swinner- 
ton’s and hurried to the nearest locksmith, where he 
purchased nearly twenty brass keys of about the 
same size and shape of the key to his own room, 
which all but turned the lock to the rear room. On 
returning to the house he encountered the landlady 
on the stoop. 

“Why, good morning, Mr. Stewart,” said she, cor- 
dially. 

“ Oh, good morning,” responded Harvey, who did 
not at first recognise himself. 

“Did you sleep well, sir?” she asked, cheerily. 

“Well, er — quite well — that is, not so badly, you 
know.” 

“I’m glad of that. I’m just going to look up your 
references. I hope you’ll like your room. I told 
Jennie to have any baggage for you taken right up. 
I’ll give you your keys to-night.” 

“That’s very kind of you, I’m sure,” said Harvey, 
as she let him in with her latch-key. “Wonder what 
she’d say if she knew what happened last night,” he 
thought, on his way up-stairs. 

He found that the maid had returned for the salver 
during his absence, and had put his bed to air. The 
third and fourth floors seemed deserted. With little 


HARVEY FINDS THE CASKET 


205 


delay he began to fit a key to the rear room, and, 
after trying over a dozen, succeeded in turning the 
lock. He entered at once, locking the door after 
him and lighting the gas, as the windows were se- 
curely muffled against all light : the left by heavy 
curtains, the right by perfectly fitting bits of heavy 
brown pasteboard. The room was neatly furnished, 
as he had observed from the fire-escape, but a hasty 
investigation of the bookcase, folding-bed, and closet 
revealed nothing but a screw-driver and a wood-rasp, 
which prosaic articles he had found behind a line of 
very new books on the lowest shelf of the bookcase. 

Rolling up the rug, he cautiously sounded and pried 
at each piece of flooring, but without result. Re- 
membering, however, that the mysterious noises he 
had heard had come from the wall on a level with 
the fire-escape, he began to sound the wainscoting 
with the handle of the screw-driver. 

The wainscoting beneath the right window gave 
forth a hollow sound, and on minute investigation 
Harvey disclosed the fact that the screw-heads of the 
screws holding four strips of moulding in place had 
been smoothly covered with gray-coloured putty 
which was not yet dry. These strips of moulding 
held a large gray board in place, as Harvey discov- 
ered when he removed the first strip. He soon had 
the other three bits of moulding loose, and, by deftly 
prying with the screw-driver, started the broad piece 
of wainscoting. 


206 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


As Harvey removed the board, he caught sight of 
a valise firmly placed between three pieces of stud- 
ding. In feverish excitement he reached for it, and 
began to fumble with the lock. To his surprise, the 
catch parted with a snap, and, on throwing back the 
lid, Harvey beheld the casket. Several keys, held 
together by a piece of twine, lay in the bottom of 
the valise. Harvey at once opened the box and 
feasted his eyes on the gems to his heart’s content. 

“I’ve got them! I’ve got them at last!” he re- 
peated, scarcely believing his sight. He quietly 
closed and locked the casket again, glanced at the 
inventory Billings had made during the night, and 
then took out a small package done up in brown 
paper and tied with a string. As soon as he had 
started the wrapper his eye caught the glint of gold, 
and, hastily tearing off the paper, beheld Jack’s watch 
and chain, with the familiar monogram “ J. L. B.” on 
the lid of the hunting-case. 

Harvey drew a short, sharp breath, and winked 
hard. 

“ The infernal villain ! ” he cried, returning the 
watch and chain to the valise, with which he started 
for the door. He did not stop to turn off the gas, 
but simply locked the door, pocketed the key, and 
ran down the stairs, two steps at a time, boarding 
the first south bound car, which he left at Forty- 
eighth Street, and hurried toward the mansion as 
fast as his long legs would carry him. 





CHAPTER XI. 


OFF FOR THE BLUE RIDGE 

J ASPER BILLINGS was not a little surprised 
about nine o’clock Friday morning by a call from 
Mr. Mackay. 

“You tell him I’ll be right down, Frazer. Is he 
alone ? ” 

“He is, sir.” 

Billings sighed wearily as he glanced through the 
mail. “ Is there any other news, Ambrose ? ” 
“None, sir.” 

“Very well. I’ll be right down,” repeated the 
steward, gloomily. In a quarter-hour he presented 
himself at the library. Mr. Mackay was standing at 
a front window, watching the people in the street. 

“ Good morning, sir,” began the steward, with a 
brisk air he was far from feeling. 

“Why, good morning, Billings,” responded the 
broker, cordially. “You must excuse my early 
intrusion on your time, but it is unavoidable.” 

“Oh, don’t mention it,” said Billings, at once 
relieved of his anxiety. “ What can I do for 
you ? ” 


209 


210 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“ It’s just this : I got a wire from Colonel Vree- 
land saying he would be here about ten. He’ll no 
doubt expect to hear what you’ve got to say, and 
will also want to have a word with Mrs. Benham. I 
therefore suggested that she should meet us here 
this morning.” 

“ An excellent idea ! ” agreed the steward, with a 
serviceable smile. “Colonel Vreeland is certainly 
entitled to an explanation if any one is, and, though I 
don’t know anything more than I’ve told you and the 
lady and the plain-clothes men, I’m willing to repeat 
that story as often as you like.” 

“ It won’t be necessary to go over it much more. 
But where so much is involved, and since you are 
the only one who can give us any help whatever, it 
seems but a natural request.” 

“ I can readily understand that, my dear sir ; and, 
as I say, I’m willing to help you out. Have I not 
told you all I know ? ” 

“ Mrs. Benham,” announced the butler, drawing 
the portieres before the broker could reply. 

“ Good morning, madam,” began Mr. Mackay, 
bowing and offering an easy-chair. “You got my 
note?” He was struck by the great change that 
had come over her in one short night, and realised 
how keenly she must have suffered. 

“ Yes, I got it a little while ago, and came right up. 
Have you any news ? ” 

“Unhappily, no. We expect Colonel Vreeland 


OFF FOR THE BLUE RIDGE 


21 I 


shortly, and hope that he may suggest some way 
of unravelling the mystery. He has a very fertile 
mind, and is a splendid judge of character. I thought 
you might wish to hear what he has to say.” While 
he was saying this, the broker of course addressed 
Mrs. Benham, but took the opportunity to steal a 
furtive glance at Billings, who had assumed a calm, 
know-nothing air as he sat at the desk with his 
legs crossed. 

‘‘It is very kind of you,” she said, gratefully. 
“ Have you heard nothing from the police ? ” 

“ Nothing. It is indeed a puzzle,” replied the 
broker, musingly. “ The police are inclined to con- 
demn your son, and refuse to entertain other theo- 
ries, which shows how pig-headed men can be,” he 
concluded, emphatically. 

Billings smiled blandly at this last outburst. 
“Here is Colonel Vreeland now,” said he, calmly. 
“ Let’s hear what he has to say.” 

“ I need not tell you how shocked I am at this 
unfortunate affair,” Colonel Vreeland began, after the 
usual formalities. “ It is not the loss of the jewels, 
many of which were family heirlooms and presents 
to my wife, and the wretched publicity of it all, but 
the fact that a human life rests in the balance. Mrs. 
Benham, I did not know until yesterday that I was 
indebted to your son for the gallant rescue of my 
daughter Edna and her friend in the park last Sep- 
tember. I cannot now believe that a young fellow 


212 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


of his calibre would in any way betray the trust of 
his employers.” 

Billings shifted uneasily in his chair. This was 
news to him. 

“ It is generous and right for you to take that 
view,” said Mrs. Benham, who was much comforted 
by the words. “ Can you offer me no hope ? ” 

“ Worlds of hope, my dear lady. We shall not 
leave a stone unturned in order to get at the bottom 
of what appears to be a cleverly planned and exe- 
cuted criminal intrigue.” 

Again Billings shifted in his seat. 

“ If I am to believe the newspapers, you were with 
the young man last, were you not, Billings ?” 

“ I was, sir,” responded the steward, clearing his 
throat. 

“ Then please give me an account of his departure, 
and let me know what instructions you gave him.” 

The steward repeated the story he had told to Mr. 
Mackay, Mrs. Benham, and the three central office 
men, dwelling with particular emphasis on the fact 
that Jack had insisted on seeing the jewels before 
leaving, and endeavouring to convince his hearers by 
subtle insinuations that he had acted suspiciously, 
when the reader knows he was simply suspicious. 

“I fail to see how any one can criticise my conduct 
in this matter,” concluded the steward, seeing that 
his employer was favourably impressed with the 
story. “You will remember telling me, sir, that 


OFF FOR THE BLUE RIDGE 


213 


you preferred to have young Benham come to the 
house and run the errands rather than that tall dude 
with the queer name, who was needed in the office. 
Acting on your instructions, and assuming that the 
lad was trustworthy, I sent for him as soon as I 
received your wife’s letter ordering the casket. I told 
him to prepare for the journey, and to let them know 
at the office.” 

“ No one is criticising your conduct,” curtly re- 
plied the millionaire, who abhorred a wheedling 
tone. “ Mackay, this is an enigma. What’s to be 
done ? ” 

Billings repressed a sardonic smile as Mrs. Benham 
looked up hopefully. 

“I’m sure I don’t know. It appears that we must 
turn to the police for consolation.” 

“ Can you suggest anything, Billings ? ” 

The steward shrugged his shoulders and began to 
pace up and down before the cheerful log fire. A 
painful silence was interrupted by the sound of the 
front door-bell. Mr. Mackay crossed his legs quickly 
and sat bolt upright — it was a trying moment. 
Then all at once the portieres parted as Harvey 
entered, valise in hand, and, pointing straight at the 
steward, cried in a voice that was fairly choked with 
righteous wrath : 

“There stands the man who stole the Vreeland 
jewels and robbed Jack Benham of his watch and 
chain ! ” 


214 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


At the first word the broker jumped to his feet 
and quickly led Mrs. Benham toward the windows, 
while Billings glared at the intruder in dumb, white 
rage. Colonel Vreeland, soldier though he was, 
seemed too unstrung to move. 

“Don’t let him out ! ” panted Harvey, as the stew- 
ard began to move toward the desk, and, as his eye 
fell on the valise, quick as a flash caught up a heavy 
cut-glass ink-well, which he hurled with terrible force 
at Harvey’s head. 

“You dog!” muttered the colonel, as the ink-well 
struck a marble ornament above the bookcase and 
split in a shower of glass, the vase toppling sideways 
and crashing to the hardwood floor. 

Before Billings could pick up another ink-well, 
Harvey had dropped the valise and was upon him 
like a madman. He dealt him one stunning blow 
full on the nose, and followed this up with a lusty 
left-hander in the eye. Then they closed fiercely, 
reeled, crashed against the plate-glass doors of the 
bookcases, and went down with a stifled groan amid 
the falling glass, Harvey on top, — the “tall dude” 
had triumphed. 

“ Heaven help them ! ” cried Mrs. Benham, as the 
men struggled over the soft rug, and Billings’s face 
was seen to be smeared with blood. Notwithstand- 
ing the steward’s weight, Harvey was too clever for 
him, and in another second had jammed the man’s 
head against the corner of the desk. The broker and 


OFF FOR THE BLUE RIDGE 215 

Colonel Vreeland now for the first time got a chance 
to lend a hand, and, aided by the efforts of the aston- 
ished butler, succeeded in subduing the infuriated 
steward, who fought to the last with the strength of 
a maniac. 

Frazer went for a rope, but before he returned 
Lance Pemberton entered, having been admitted by 
the side door. 

“ Here’s your man ! ” cried Harvey, exultingly. 

“ What’s the fuss ? ” asked Pemberton, with a com- 
prehensive glance about the room. He was much 
piqued at having missed the excitement, and snapped 
a pair of handcuffs on the steward in a twinkling. 

‘‘Now tell me where Jack Benham is, you scal- 
awag ! ” roared Harvey, shaking his fist in the 
steward’s face. 

“What’s he charged with ? ” demanded Pemberton, 
nonplussed at the unexpected condition of things. 

“ I charge that man with stealing the Vreeland 
jewels and robbing Jack Benham!” cried Harvey, 
still panting from his exertions. 

“ Huh ! You’ll have to get a warrant if you’ve got 
no proofs,” declared the big detective, sordidly. 

“ I’ve got proofs enough,” retorted Harvey, pick- 
ing up the valise that nobody but Billings seemed to 
have noticed in the flurry. He opened it and took 
out the casket and the inventory. “ Here is the box, 
and here is an inventory in the man’s own handwrit- 
ing, made last night under my very eyes.” 


21 6 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


Billings fairly swooned at the words. 

“ That hurts, does it ! ” cried Harvey, trembling 
with rage. “ And here is Benham’s watch and chain, 
as his own mother will testify.” He took out the 
articles and handed them to the lady, who turned 
ashy pale as she accepted them. 

“ Yes, these are Jack’s,” she said, huskily. 

“ What have you got to say to these charges ? ” the 
detective wanted to know, lifting Billings into a chair 
with official despatch. 

But the vanquished steward would venture no 
response. He would not even raise his eyes from 
the floor, and did not once open his lips during all 
the time that Harvey was relating his exciting tale. 

“ He’ll go up the river for twenty years or I’ll miss 
my guess,” predicted Pemberton, as Harvey finished 
and spread out the inventory for his hearers’ inspec- 
tion. 

“ It is undoubtedly the man’s handwriting and 
figures,” declared the millionaire. “ I have never 
before been so deceived in a human being.” 

“Oh, that’s nothing,” sneered Pemberton. “We 
find such cases every day.” 

“ At least you will admit you did not find this one 
to-day,” said the broker, dryly. 

“ How could I suspect that person ? ” asked Pem- 
berton, haughtily. “ You told me yourself that he had 
come to Colonel Vreeland with a ten years’ reference 
from his last place.” 


OFF FOR THE BLUE RIDGE 


2 17 


“ It’s all right, Pemberton,” whispered Colonel 
Vreeland, assuringly. “Now see what you can do 
with him regarding young Benham.” 

“ It’s no use, sir ; I’ve seen that look on them be- 
fore. You tackle him.” 

“Billings,” began the colonel, austerely, “it will 
be to your interest to give us at once the details of 
this dastardly piece of business, and divulge the 
whereabouts of John Benham. If you do this at 
once, I shall endeavour to make the charge against 
you as light as possible.” 

You could have heard a pin drop as Billings raised 
his bloodshot eyes. His nose was still bleeding, and 
he presented a sorry sight with his scanty hair 
dishevelled, his linen spotted with blood, and his 
four-in-hand badly askew. 

“ Nothing could be fairer than that, surely,” inter- 
polated the broker, persuasively. 

But still Billings was obdurate. 

“I will give you just five minutes to make a con- 
fession,” said the colonel, watch in hand. 

Mrs. Benham advanced toward the criminal. She 
was very pale, and her lips trembled as she began to 
speak. 

“ If my son is still alive, and you tell me where he 
is, I will also use my influence in your behalf,” she 
said, pleadingly. 

“Look at the thing fairly, man,” put in the detec- 
tive. “You’ve got a chance now to make these 


21 8 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


people your friends. It may make a difference of 
five or ten years in your sentence.” 

Billings stared wildly about him at the words, 
opened his mouth, shot a fiendish glance at Harvey, 
and then sank back in his chair with a kind of stifled 
gasp, his colourless lips closing over the small white 
teeth like a steel trap. 

“ Time’s up ! ” announced the colonel, sharply. 

“ Ring for a patrol,” said Pemberton, turning to 
Harvey. “Tell the captain to send one here in a 
hurry. The number is 1005 Madison.” 

Harvey sat down to the ’phone with great satisfac- 
tion and ordered the police patrol. Billings pretended 
not to hear him, and kept his eyes riveted on the rug. 
Pemberton stood over him with folded arms, while 
Mrs. Benham, accompanied by the two gentlemen, 
withdrew to the window and held a whispered con- 
sultation. They were all startled by the sound of 
the door-bell. The venerable P'razer, much excited 
and disturbed by the fight in the library and the 
steward’s arrest, hurried to the door. 

“A message for Colonel Vreeland,” said a diminu- 
tive youngster in the uniform of an American dis- 
trict messenger. 

“Come right in, come right in,” said Frazer, ner- 
vously. “ Where is it, boy ? ” 

“Here it is, and it’s marked ‘rush’ — see?” re- 
torted the boy, taking the yellow envelope from the 
crown of his hat. 


OFF FOR THE BLUE RIDGE 


219 


“Give it here/’ said the butler. 

“ Naw — you sign — see ? ” 

Ambrose scrawled his initials on the book. 

“There’s thirty cents cornin’,” pursued the urchin, 
installing himself in the great hall chair. 

“A message, sir,” said Frazer, entering the 
library. 

“ For me ? ” said the colonel, taking the envelope 
from the brass salver. He tore off the end of the 
envelope and drew out the slip. As soon as he began 
to read he started violently. 

“Good heavens! can this be true!” he cried. 
“‘Colonel Henry T. Vreeland, Fifth Avenue, etc. 
John Benham alive and well at watchman Andrew 
McGowan’s cottage, Manhattan Beach Hotel,’ ” he 
read, hurriedly. “Signed, ‘ Walter Norcross, M.D.’” 

“ Let me see it,” screamed Mrs. Benham, snatch- 
ing the paper and glancing at the typewritten words. 
“ Thank God ! Oh, thank God ! ” she said, fervently, 
pressing the little sheet to her heart as she sank into 
the nearest chair and burst into wild, uncontrollable 
sobs, the first that she had given way to since the 
news of Jack’s misfortune. When she partially 
recovered her self-control, she found Miss Vreeland 
and Edna by her side, willing to share the good news 
and eager to offer their womanly sympathy. 

“The patrol-wagon has come,” whispered Edna, 
“ and they are taking him out. Do you want to see 
him go ? ” 


220 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“Yes,” said Mrs. Benham, calmly rising to her 
feet, “ I want to see him go.” 

She looked toward the middle of the room, across 
which Pemberton and an officer in uniform were 
hustling their captive. Billings made some little 
resistance, but the officer in uniform prodded him 
freely with his little club whenever he balked. The 
ladies followed the trio to the hall, which was alive 
with the entire retinue of servants, gathered to view 
with silent delight the ignominious departure of 
their late oppressor ; for Billings was universally 
disliked. Even the chef was there, wearing a 
smile as broad as the pan he was unconsciously 
carrying. 

The officers soon had Billings in the patrol, which 
started for the station-house at once, followed by a 
part of the curious crowd. The servants discreetly 
withdrew, and Frazer began to set things to rights 
in the library. 

“ And what can I do for you?” asked Mr. Mackay 
of the messenger boy, who had returned to the hall 
chair after the little excitement, which he had enjoyed 
hugely. 

“ I’ve got thirty cents cornin’ on that wire,” re- 
plied the urchin. 

“You have!” exclaimed the broker, genially. 
“ Bless my soul if your number’s not thirteen ! ” 

“That’s me number,” admitted the little fellow, 
proudly displaying his nickel shield. 


OFF FOR THE BLUE RIDGE 


221 


“Well, here’s a half-dollar, my lad. I shall con- 
sider thirteen a lucky number after this.” 

“So will I,” answered the messenger, shuffling 
out with a broad grin on his little face. “Gee whiz ! 
that feller with the bloody nose was up against it, 
now, fer fair.” 

It was arranged that after a quick luncheon the 
party should start for the Thirty-fourth Street ferry, 
stopping for Daisy Benham on the way. This was 
done, Mrs. Benham and her daughter, Miss Vreeland, 
the broker, and Harvey reaching Long Island City 
in time for the twelve o’clock train for Sheepshead 
Bay, where they sent for Doctor Norcross before 
starting for the beach. In answer to the summons, 
the physician went at once to the anxious party at 
the station. He was a small man, ruddy and cheer- 
ful, and told what he knew without waiting to be 
questioned. 

“ About nine o’clock this morning the watchman 
of the Manhattan Beach Hotel, Andrew McGowan, 
came to my office. He said a young fellow had been 
shipwrecked on the rocks below the summer prome- 
nade the night before, and was in need of medical 
attention. I went with him, and found the lad to be 
in fairly good health, though he had been struck on 
the head by something in the nature of a sandbag. 
I saw there was luckily no concussion of the brain, 
and, after giving him a tonic and bandaging the hurt, 
asked him what else I could do for him. Said he, 


222 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


‘Telegraph my mother that I am alive and well,’ and 
he gave me the name and address ; and as I was 
turning away, ‘ Telegraph Colonel Vreeland where I 
am.’ I saw at once that he was the subject of an 
interesting article I had read in the morning paper, 
and guessed that he had been the victim of some 
plot. Realising the condition of things, and seeing 
that my patient was hardly in a condition to ex- 
plain further, I hurried away and sent the wires. 
I will go down with you now, but it would be 
better to treat the matter lightly, at least for a few 
days.” 

That was how Jack and Andy came to be so pleas- 
antly surprised half an hour later. 

“And to think Harvey got your watch back, too,” 
said the radiant mother, concluding the little story 
that Jack had insisted on hearing. 

“Good old Harve!” said Jack, shaking hands for 
the tenth time. “ Harve, I knew you wouldn’t go 
back on a fellow when he’s down.” The brown eyes 
met the blue, and both lads smiled knowingly. 

“ Now, honestly, how do you feel, Jack ? ” inquired 
the broker, who felt capable of chartering a car and 
moving cottage and all back to the city. 

“ First-rate ; but I don’t believe I’ll want to go 
back with you to-night,” said Jack, smiling faintly. 
“ Andy’s been a brick, mommy.” 

“Ye’ve had the best I could give ye,” declared 
the old watchman. “ It was somethin’ of a shock to 


OFF FOR THE BLUE RIDGE 


223 


see him walkin’ up out of the ocean, I can tell ye, 
folks.” 

It was decided that Mrs. Benham should remain 
with Jack for the night. The others returned for 
the four o’clock train back to town, Mr. Mackay 
finding time while at the hamlet to purchase a quan- 
tity of needful things for the trio at the cottage. 

Jack improved very rapidly, and by Saturday 
morning he and his mother were able to bid Andy 
farewell. The kind old man refused to accept any 
remuneration for his timely service, but promised to 
pay Jack a visit as soon as he got a “lay off.” 

“I’ll not forget you, Andy,” said Jack, with tears 
in his eyes as he shook the watchman’s horny 
hand. 

“Ye must be good to yerself, so ye must,” replied 
the old man. “ And good luck to ye, leddy,” he 
added, as the train pulled out. They looked back 
and saw the bent figure intently watching the re- 
treating train. 

“Andy’s a perfect trump,” said Jack, with a sigh. 
“ I’ll send him a bundle of magazines every week as 
long as he lives, ’cause he likes the pictures. It 
must be horribly lonesome, listening to those breakers 
all winter long. I tell you, mommy, I’m glad to get 
that sound out of my ears. Does this bandage show 
much ? That was a bad clip somebody gave me.” 

“ Not much,” said the happy mother, who was very 
glad that Jack did not seem inclined to discuss his 


224 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

adventure more seriously. “ I like your friend Har- 
vey very much.” 

They took a cab at the ferry. Daisy had returned 
from Colonel Vreeland’s, where she had spent the 
night, and had a jolly fire in the grate, and every- 
thing about the little home as neat as a pin when 
they arrived. 

“Oh, Jack! I’ve got such news!” she cried, ex- 
citedly. “ Edna has postponed the party, and Billings 
has made a full confession. You’ll not have to tell 
all those horrid things, for they’ve found out every- 
thing. And Mr. Mackay says you’ve got to take a 
good long vacation and get well and strong.” 

“ Well ! well ! I don’t think I’ve lost all my 
strength yet,” said Jack, pluckily. 

“ He told me to tell you that he’d get a new office 
boy, and that you were to come back as collector. 
Now, what do you think of that ? ” 

“ I think it’s very nice indeed, sis.” 

“And they’re all coming to call to-morrow after- 
noon, Jack, Edna and her aunt, Mr. Mackay and 
Harvey Tallant. Isn’t that jolly ?’•’ 

“ Now, mommy, I don’t look fit to be seen,” said 
Jack, unconsciously giving his hair a brush with his 
hand. 

Mrs. Benham smiled at his earnestness. 

“You look all right,” she said, assuringly. ~ “And 
I think you ought to take the rest Mr. Mackay sug- 
gests.” 


OFF FOR THE BLUE RIDGE 


225 


“Well, I’ll not argue the point,” Jack answered, 
meekly. “Tell me how old Billings looked when 
Harve bounced him, mommy.” 

“ Not now, John.” 

That evening Harvey called. He was just as 
jovial as ever, and gave Jack the news of the office, 
and in other ways amused him with droll stories of 
the tenants, who were Jack’s sworn friends. 

“And what do you think I got to-day ? ” he asked. 

“ Couldn’t say.” 

“A good fat check from Colonel Vreeland, Jack. 
He gave it to me himself, and insisted that I should 
accept it. He told me to get mother a sealskin 
sack, and buy myself a suit of clothes. I got the 
check cashed, and want to square up with you, 
Jacko. Here you are,” and Harvey counted out 
sixty dollars, which he left on the table. “ He’s got 
your watch and chain, and wants to see you before 
you pull out on your vacation. Say, they’ve found 
out what stable Billings hired, and the name of the 
schooner you were taken to sea in.” 

“ What was it ? ” asked Jack, eagerly. 

“The Sallie Harkness , and it’s owned by a worth- 
less character named Colwell. They’ve notified the 
police of all ports she’s likely to touch at, and are 
ready to give her a warm reception when she pokes 
her prow into the East River again.” 

“It all sounds like a fairy tale,” said Jack. “I 
never thought I’d get back to this when I came to 


226 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


myself in the forecastle that night. I’ve got you 
and Mrs. Colwell to thank, Harve.” 

“You mustn’t talk any more,” remonstrated Mrs. 
Benham. “Are you coming to-morrow, Harvey?” 

“With your kind permission,” said Harvey, rising. 

“Oh, come by all means,” answered the lady, 
warmly. 

“Come for dinner,” called Jack, as Harvey closed 
the door. 

Mr. Mackay, Miss Vreeland, and Edna arrived 
early in the afternoon. Jack had insisted on rising, 
and had donned his Sunday best. He still wore the 
bandage about his hoad, and sat in an easy-chair by 
the south window with a cushion at his feet when the 
party entered. 

“ Let me introduce my niece,” said Miss Vreeland, 
when first greetings had been exchanged. 

“ I am very glad to meet you,” responded Jack, with 
a happy mingling of manly dignity and boyish pride. 

“I think we have met several times before,” said 
Edna, smiling, “and that on one occasion you quite 
failed to notice me.” 

“It was very rude,” said Jack; “you see — ” 

“No excuses,” laughed the young girl. “ I under- 
stand how you felt about it. But how are you 
to-day ? ” 

“ I’m glad to say I’m much better, thank you. I 
am sorry, though, that you postponed your party on 
my account,” said Jack, frankly. 


OFF FOR THE BLUE RIDGE 22 7 

“ We will have it when you’re better again, and 
then you must bring Daisy.” 

“That will not be for some time, I’m afraid,” in- 
terposed the broker. “I say, Jack, I had quite a 
talk with Doctor Norcross Friday, and think it best 
that you should not come back to work for six or 
eight weeks. I’m sure your mother will favour the 
plan of granting you a vacation, and I hope you will 
find some place in the country where you can get 
plenty of outdoor exercise.” 

“He could go to his Uncle Harry’s,” suggested 
Mrs. Benham, after a moment’s reflection. “That 
isn’t far, and Jack and Dan are great friends.” 

“ That’s a good idea,” continued Mr. Mackay. 
“ Colonel Vreeland is anxious to avoid unnecessary 
publicity, and is, moreover, much worried over the 
boy’s mishap. May we consider it settled ? ” 

“You may,” said Jack, brightly. 

“ We’d like to get Tallant off for awhile, too, but 
that’s impossible,” the broker concluded. 

Harvey called later and stayed to dinner. He vol- 
unteered to help Jack pack up, and dropped in each 
evening through the week for a little chat. He was a 
great help in many ways, and often regaled his hearers 
with a fund of new stories acquired for the occasion. 

It was decided that Jack should leave on the Mon- 
day before Thanksgiving, and early on the morning 
of that day he started for the ferry in a cab. His 
mother and Daisy accompanied him to the train. 


228 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“ Give my love to grandma, Uncle Harry, and Dan, 
and write often,” said Mrs. Benham, as the engine 
was backed on. “ Good-bye.” 

“ Good-bye,” said Jack, tenderly. “Good-bye, lit- 
tle girl,” he added, turning to Daisy. “ I’ll be back 
for Christmas.” 

In a few minutes the train pulled out, and Jack, 
settling back in his seat, took out the book that Har- 
vey had handed him the night before to while away 
the time. When the train reached Cragstone four 
hours later, he found his cousin Dan awaiting him. 



CHAPTER XII. 


DAN ELWOOD AT HOME 



AN ELWOOD lived with 
his father ? i grand- 
mother on a little farm 
three miles back of Crag- 
stone, a thrifty hamlet on 
the Delaware River, above 
Port Jervis. Mr. Elwood 
was foreman and part 
owner of the great blue 
stone mill at the little 
village. This mill was 
run by water -power, 
which necessitated its 
closing down during the 
winter months, as many 
of the brooks froze to 
the bottom, the available 
water-supply being insufficient to turn the ponderous 
wheels. During these periods of business inactivity 
Dan’s father usually busied himself about home, 
prospected for new quarries, or hunted with his son. 


229 


230 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


Early in November, however, Mr. Elwood had gone 
West in the interests of the company, and had not 
returned when the first letter from Jack’s mother 
arrived. 

“ Hurrah ! ” cried Dan, as his grandmother read the 
communication the hired man had brought that morn- 
ing from the village. “ I’ll have my hunt, after all.” 

“ Don’t you think of chasing that poor boy all 
through these rough woods, Daniel,” remonstrated 
the good lady. “Aunt Emily wants him to get 
plenty of outdoor exercise, but she says he’s run 
down, and needs a change of air and quiet.” 

“ If he’s run down, I know what will build him up,” 
retorted Dan, with a shrewd smile, as he went out to 
feed his two dogs, which he had raised from puppies. 
He had trained them himself, and they were the envy 
of the boys for miles around. He had broken Shep 
on raccoons and squirrels, and Fly on deer, foxes, and 
rabbits. Shep was a kind of collie ; his nose was 
pointed, his ears small, and he had long hair and a 
bushy tail. Fly was a well-bred foxhound, light in 
colour, with great pendulous brown ears that Dan 
could tie in a knot over her neck. Dan had built 
two small kennels for his pets, which he had enclosed 
with a high picket fence. There was a merry barking 
of recognition as the lad approached the enclosure. 

“Good dogs,” said he, setting down the pan of 
mush cooked with meat scraps. “ I’ll give you a 
chance to stretch your legs some day.” 


DAN EL WOOD AT HOME 


231 


He went to the pump and filled the water basin, 
which he placed in the shade of a small tree. As 
the dogs lapped the water, Dan leaned against the 
sloping roof of a kennel, and began to drowse in 



the warm November sunshine. He had been ’coon- 
hunting the night before, and had not reached home 
till midnight. He was startled by the dogs’ barking, 
and, rousing himself, turned instinctively toward the 
road. 


232 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“ Halloa, Dan ! ” came in drawling tones from the 
rail fence not thirty feet away. 

“Why, halloa! ” answered Dan, as his eyes fell on 
the picturesque figure of young Vance Ladell. The 
man was sitting astride the top rail, smoking a briar- 
root pipe. He was dressed in a well-worn suit of 
brown jeans, t and wore a soft felt hat of the same 
colour. His mild black eyes looked out of a face 
browned by constant exposure to sun and wind. 

“Pretty day,” observed Ladell, cocking his head 
and squinting at the bright sky. “ Done much 
huntin’ ? ” 

“ Not much,” said Dan, discreetly. 

“These hills is gettin’ poorer every year,” pursued 
the woodsman. “ It don’t hardly pay no more to keep 
a dog.” 

“ Doesn’t it ? ” 

“ No, it don’t. A man is lucky nowadays to get 
sight of a red squirrel.” 

“ Then what makes you hunt ? ” asked Dan, inno- 
cently. 

“ I guess it’s kind of bred in the bone,” confessed 
Vance. “ Besides, I’ve got a chance to guide a party 
of gents next week, — good pay, too.” 

“ That’s good,” said Dan. 

“ It’s kind of good and kind of bad,” drawled Vance, 
swinging himself into the yard, and stacking his rifle 
against the fence. 

“ How so ? ” 


DAN ELWOOD AT HOME 


233 


Vance took out a large jack-knife with a keen 
blade, and began cutting notches in one of the 
pickets. 

“ You see I ain’t got no dog,” said he, finally. 

“That’s bad,” said Dan, thoughtfully. 

“Ain’t it, though ? It’s all-fired mean.” 

“ Why don’t you buy one ? ” 

“There ain’t none to be had.” 

“ What became of your little brindle with the black 
spot over one eye ? ” asked Dan. 

“ I sold him last spring, and now I can’t buy him 
back,” said Vance, in a tone of deep disgust. 

“ Of course not ; the man wants to hunt himself 
after keeping the dog all, summer,” laughed Dan. 

Ladell was silent. He put away the knife, and 
turned to look at Dan’s dogs, which were tumbling 
about in a frolic at their master’s feet. 

“Those are likely brutes of yourn,” observed the 
caller. 

“ There are lots of others,” responded Dan, quickly. 
“Joe Vogt’s got a good hound for sale — only five 
dollars.” 

“Don’t want a hound,” said Vance, briefly. 
“ What’ll you take for your ’coon dog ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t want to sell him,” said Dan, frankly. 
“ I wouldn’t take twice what he’s worth.” 

“ I’ll give you ten dollars cash money if you’ll throw 
in collar and chain.” 

“ I won’t sell — no use,” said Dan, positively. He 


234 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


called the dogs to their respective kennels, and 
snapped chains to their collars. 

“I wasn’t goin’ to tote ’em off,” drawled Vance, 
leisurely replenishing his pipe. “ Mebbe I ain’t as 
light-fingered as I look.” 

“Why, I didn’t mean it that way,” Dan explained ; 
“ I meant you to understand that that was an end of 
the matter.” 

“ It’s all right,” said the other. “ And since 
you’re so touchy about it, I’ll not pester you no 
more.” 

“ Did you get anything this morning ? ” asked 
Dan, hoping to turn the conversation. 

“I most certainly did,” replied Ladell, significantly 
tapping his bulging side pockets. 

“ Squirrels ? ” 

Ladell nodded. 

“You can do more with a rifle than any man I 
ever saw,” said Dan, in a conciliatory tone. 

“Yes, and I know the woods better than any 
timber-cruiser in these hills,” continued Vance. 
“ And if you want a good chance to make a winter’s 
wages, you’d better tie up with me, Dan Elwood.” 

Dan was thunderstruck. He instantly recalled to 
mind that Vance Ladell, aside from the fact that he 
had been twice arrested for breaking the state game 
laws, had a very unsavoury reputation. Dan had 
never spoken a dozen words to the man in his life, 
and was at first inclined to resent the proposition. 


DAN ELWOOD AT HOME 235 

Luckily, the expected visit from Jack suggested a 
more diplomatic retort. 

“ My time is already engaged,” he said, simply. 
“ I expect my cousin up from the city in a few 
days.” 

“Not the little chap that comes up with his sister 
for the hot spell ? ” 

“ That’s the fellow,” said Dan. “ He isn’t very 
well, and I’ve got to amuse him.” 

“ Then you won’t want to use that cabin for 
awhile ? ” queried Ladell, significantly. 

“ I think we will. If he feels like it, we’re going 
over there for a hunt,” said Dan, hastily, for he was 
annoyed. He had hoped that nobody would dis- 
cover the recently built cabin for awhile at least, 
but Ladell seemed to know all about it before it 
was fairly completed. 

“Then if he don’t favour the notion, you’ll lend it 
to me ? ” inquired the woodsman, coaxingly. 

“I didn’t say so — I won’t make any promises,” 
replied Dan, unable to hide his annoyance. 

“ Do me one favour, then,” persisted Ladell, pick- 
ing up his repeater. 

“ Well ? ” 

“ Lend me your ’coon dog for a couple of nights 
when my crowd comes up for Thanksgiving.” 

“ That I won’t do. I want him myself for Thanks- 
giving ; and if I didn’t, I wouldn’t lend him to any- 
body. If I lent him once, everybody’d want to 


236 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

borrow him — can’t you see that ? Then, after a 
month or two, the dog wouldn’t know where he 
belonged.” 

“ He ain’t half broke,” sneered Vance. “ I could 
learn him a few things worth knowin’.” 

“He suits me,” said Dan, curtly, as they left the 
kennels and mechanically proceeded toward the road. 
Vance stepped over the wall and turned toward 
Cragstone without a word. 

“That fellow’s got a good nerve,” thought Dan, 
as the figure disappeared around a bend in the road. 
“ It’s a wonder he didn’t ask me to lend him my gun.” 

Dan busied himself all afternoon on the wood-pile. 
The following morning he and Jonas, the hired man, 
loaded the farm-wagon with a small camp stove, 
cooking utensils, flour, sugar, coffee, ammunition, 
steel traps, and other things. A wood road ran 
within half a mile of the cabin, and, from this point, 
Jonas and Dan were obliged to carry the things in. 
Dan worked hard for several days after, and by 
Saturday afternoon had everything in good shape. 
He expected Jack up on the noon train Monday, and, 
after spending a quiet Sunday, rose early the next 
morning. He reached Cragstone with the team some 
time before the train arrived, and exchanged greet- 
ings with his friends, who gathered about him to 
hear the latest news from “the bush.” 

“Huntin’ any good, Dan?” asked little Tom 
Eckhart, dangling his legs from a sugar-barrel. 


DAN ELWOOD AT HOME 


237 


“ Haven’t been out much,” said Dan. 

“Any mink ’long the brooks?” inquired Ray 
Raison. 

“ Quite a few,” said Dan, honestly. 

“ I guess you ain’t heard about the bear my daddy 
seen on the tracks last night, have you ? ” asked Tim 
Kane. 

“Why, no,” said Dan, interested at once. “Where 
did he see it ? ” 

“ Up at the rock cut. Say, it was a big one, and 
was so tame the boys on a passin’ coal train pelted 
it with big lumps of coal. Dad said one of them 
fired a pistol at it, and the bear dumb the mountain.” 

“ Which mountain ? ” 

“ High Point. If there was trackin’ snow, you 
might get a shot,” ventured Tim. 

“ It has likely come over to winter, and will make 
for Dark Swamp,” said Dan, as the whistle of the 
approaching train was heard. The boys all left 
the store together, and hurried across to the station 
platform. 

Jack was the first and only passenger to step off. 
He looked a little tired and dusty after the long 
ride, but brightened up as his glance fell on Dan’s 
good-natured, freckled face. 

“ Halloa, old man ! ” he cried, clasping Dan’s out- 
stretched palm and working it like a pump-handle. 
“ How are you ? ” 

“Oh, I’m as fine as silk,” replied Dan, as Jack 


238 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

shook hands all around. “ Say, you do look sort of 
done up — what’s the trouble ? ” 

Jack turned a pair of wonderfully penetrating blue 
eyes on the group of lads. 

“So you haven’t heard?” He seemed relieved, 
and added, “Then it doesn’t matter. Now, I’ve got 
my trunk and some boxes, Dan. Got the team 
down ? ” 

“Sure thing. And say, Jack,” Dan answered, as 
the boys tumbled the luggage into the wagon, “ I’ve 
got the finest scheme in the world for spending the 
time.” As soon as the horses had fairly started up 
the mountain, and the last boy had dropped off 
behind, Dan continued. “You see my school closed 
for the winter last October, and since then I’ve been 
at work on a cabin in Little Bear Swamp. It took 
considerable time, as Jonas was the only one to help 
me. It’s about done now, and if I do say it, it’s as 
trim a little shooting-box as you’ll see in a week’s 
tramp.” 

“ Good ! I’d like to have one more hunt while I’ve 
got the time,” said Jack, enthusiastically. “Do you 
remember that rabbit-hunt we had two years ago 
Thanksgiving ? ” 

“ Do I ! The day you shot five times at a white 
rabbit without dusting the fur ! ” laughed Dan. “ I’ve 
often thought you’d have done better with a stone.” 

“I didn’t even hurry him. But I say, Dan, the 
law will be on most game by the first of December.” 


DAN ELWOOD AT HOME 


239 


“ I looked out for that, and I’ve got four dozen 
fox-traps to keep us busy. Furs are high this fall, 
and there’s any amount of small furred animals from 
the Twin Lakes to the river.” 

“ That’s a good idea ; but I never set a trap in my 
life. I wouldn’t know how,” confessed Jack. 

“ I don’t know much about it myself. We’ll have 
to go and see Uncle Jim.” 

“Who’s he?” 

“ He’s far and away the best hunter in these parts, 
even if he is seventy years old. He told me last 
week to bring you down with me before we got ready 
to start for the swamp.” 

“That’s sensible. If we’re going to trap at all, 
we ought to learn all we can, and do the thing right. 
How are the dogs ? ” 

“Tip-top. I had an offer for Shep only last 
week,” and Dan related part of his interview with 
Vance Ladell. 

The boys spent the afternoon in unpacking Jack’s 
things, looking over the hunting paraphernalia, and 
visiting the dogs. On learning of Dan’s extensive 
preparations, and seeing that Jack was in fairly good 
health, Grandma Elwood decided to abandon all 
opposition, and even put up a luncheon for the boys 
to take with them on their visit to Uncle Jim the 
next morning. 

They took the old road over High Point, arriving 
at Uncle Jim’s farm before noon. They found the 


240 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


venerable bushwhacker at home in his bachelor quar- 
ters, and were warmly welcomed. 

“ Come in, boys/’ said he, cordially. “What’s 
the good word ? ” 

“Nothing new,” said Dan. “This is my cousin, 
John Benham, Uncle Jim.” 

“Put it there!” cried Uncle Jim, heartily, as he 
extended the very biggest hand Jack had ever seen. 
“ How’s your mamma ? ” 

“Very well, thank you,” said Jack. 

“ I used to know her when she was jest so high,” 
continued Uncle Jim, indicating a certain height 
with his broad palm. “ She was a pretty little thing, 
now, don’t you doubt it. She used to spend the hot 
spell with your grandma.” 

“ She hasn’t lost her good looks yet,” said Jack, 
gallantly, as he accepted the proffered chair. 

“ What be them ? ” demanded Uncle Jim, suddenly, 
scowling at Jack’s golf trousers, which were of a 
gaudy, checkered pattern. 

“These? Oh, these are my new trousers,” con- 
fessed Jack. 

“ And you’re going to hunt in them things ? ” 

“ I intended to.” 

“Don’t,” advised Uncle Jim, abruptly. “They’re 
loud enough to scare all the game in the woods.” 
His hard, stern, sour face relaxed into one broad, 
affable smile at Jack’s nonplussed expression, and he 
laughed until the tears chased themselves over his 


DAN ELWOOD AT HOME 


241 


wrinkles and dropped off on his waistcoat. Then he 
took from his hip pocket a huge bandanna and 
brought that to the rescue. 

“ It’s one on you/’ cried Dan, for the laughter was 
contagious. 

“ And what be them ? ” inquired Uncle Jim, point- 
ing to Jack’s boots. 

“ Those are shoes,” explained Jack. 

“ Well, I wonder ! ” exclaimed the old man, scruti- 
nising the articles in question. “ A couple of years 
ago some fellers from the city dropped down to see 
me, and they all wore the sharpest, thinnest shoes 
you ever savir — jest like so many toothpicks. I 
wouldn’t have wore a pair for a hundred dollars. 
Now you come along wearin’ heavy, blunt shoes with 
a sole sticking out half an inch all around, like as if 
the cobbler forgot to trim it down. I suppose you’ll 
tell me that’s the style ? ” 

“ Yes, that’s the style, Uncle Jim ; that’s the bull- 
dog toe.” 

“ I should think it was. I’d like to know who on 
earth starts all this nonsense ? When I want a pair 
of boots, I get ’em made to fit,” and Uncle Jim 
extended a boot that looked like a soap-box. 

“ I’m sure I don’t know who starts the styles,” 
replied Jack, urbanely. “ You first see things in the 
shop windows, and then all at once everybody is 
wearing them, and people notice you if you don’t 
have them on.” 


242 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


Uncle Jim fairly bounced in his chair at this 
intelligence, but said nothing. 

“ We’ve come down for a few pointers, Uncle 
Jim,” said Dan, discreetly. “We’re going over 
to-morrow, and want to get our traps out.” 

“ Lots of time,” protested the old man, reaching 
for his trusty rifle. “ Boys, you must stay and have 
some pot-pie.” 

Uncle Jim’s chicken pot-pie is a famous dish in 
that section of the Blue Ridge, and such an invita- 
tion is never declined by old or young. 

“ Of course we’ll stay,” said Dan, as the host 
began to load the top barrel of his old-fashioned 
weapon. “ Can’t we help you ?” 

Uncle Jim stood in the open doorway and scanned 
a flock of fowls. In a few seconds he slowly raised 
the long barrels, and, sighting fine, pulled the trigger. 
When the smoke and report had died away the boys 
looked out at a flopping, headless rooster. 

“Yes ; you can pick and dress that fowl,” said the 
old man, his face beaming with satisfaction. “ I’ll 
mix the pie.” 

In less than two hours the trio sat down to an 
excellent meal. Under the genial influence of the 
pot-pie Uncle Jim spun countless hunting tales, the 
result of sixty years’ experience in the wilds of north- 
eastern Pennsylvania. They finally pushed their 
chairs back and gathered about the stove for an 
after-dinner chat. Uncle Jim filled his pipe afresh, 





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UNCLE JIM. 












DAN EL WOOD AT HOME 


245 


rested his legs on the stove-fender, and addressed 
himself to his guests. 

“You fellers had better believe you’ve got your 
hands full to put out and tend forty or fifty traps,” 
he began, blowing a plume of smoke to the ceiling. 
“ Dan, I hadn’t ought to have to tell you that the 
only animals in these mountains worth botherin’ for 
their pelts are ’coon, skunk, mink, and fox. It’s 
no trouble to ketch ’coon and mink. You’ll find ’em 
mostly along the brooks, and the best way is to set 
your traps on land. Build small stone houses about 
a foot high, leavin’ one end open. First put in your 
bait, — the head of a chicken, fresh or salt fish, or a 
piece of squirrel will fetch ’em, — then hide your trap 
under powdered wood, feathers, or even dead leaves. 
The chain ought to be fastened to a wooden clog, 
’cause ’coons and minks have a mean way of gnawin’ 
off their feet to get shed of a trap that’s spiked to a 
tree or anything that don’t have no give. If you put 
back your bait against the end of the house, you’ll 
have room enough to hide your trap so that the ani- 
mal on enterin’ will be likely to step on the pan and 
be ketched. Don’t set a trap too stiff for minks, or 
it won’t spring.” 

“How heavy should the clog or drag be ? ” asked 
Dan. 

“Not too heavy, — say six or seven pounds for 
’coons, skunks, and wildcats. There’s a few cats 
through these hills, but it won’t pay to bother ’em. 


246 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


I reckon you won’t want to worry the skunks,” con- 
cluded Uncle Jim, with a smile that expressed volumes. 

“ u How about the foxes ? ” Dan queried. 

“ Now that’s quite a neat problem,” replied Uncle 
Jim, thoughtfully. “There’s a plenty of foxes all 
through these woods, and there’s jest two ways of 
gettin’ ’em without you run ’em with hounds. One 
way is to make a bed of hay or buckwheat chaff 
under some sheltered ledge of rocks, and scatter 



MINK WITH TROUT. 


some meat scraps over it. You can soon tell by the 
looks of the chaff when you’ve got a fox cornin’ to it, 
and then you want to put in two or three traps and 
cover ’em up with the chaff. If you fasten the 
chains together, you won’t need no drag. You ought 
to ‘ check up ’ a trap like that every other day, and 
not go within fifty feet of it if you can see it from 
that space.” 

“ I think we’ll remember that,” said Jack. “ What’s 
the other way ? ” 


DAN ELWOOD AT HOME 


247 


“ The other way is to set the traps under water. 
Find springs three or four feet wide that don’t freeze 
over in winter. Put your bait on a little island a 
couple of feet from shore, and place your trap about 
half an inch under water between the bait and shore. 
Cut out a small piece of moss and put it on the pan 
of the trap so that any current won’t wash it off, but 
be sure that no part of the trap sticks out of the 
water. When a fox winds the bait he’ll take the most 
likely way to it without gettin’ his feet wet, for that 
a fox won’t do. He’ll likely step on the moss, and 
you’ll find him settin’ among the first clump of bushes 
lookin’ like a sick pup.” 

“What then?” asked Jack, eagerly. 

“ Then you waltz up and hit him a whack on the 
head, take off the trap and relieve him of his pelt. 
Red fox pelts full-grown and prime are worth from 
two to four dollars, without the dollar bounty ; full- 
grown ’coons bring about a dollar ; mink skins are 
worth two dollars.” 

“ What’s the best way to skin the animals ? ” in- 
quired Dan. 

“You’ve got to make a neat job of that. Take an 
animal when it’s warm, and it’s no trouble. Mink 
and fox have got to be skinned out feet and all. To 
skin a fox or mink, rip down the hind legs to the 
crotch after skinning out the four feet ; then work 
the bone of the tail out with a split stick. The skin 
can now be drawn over the body toward the head 


248 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

whole. You may have to go kind of gingerly around 
the head, but by a little patience and the help of a 
sharp knife you’ll be able to get it off clean, point of 
the nose and all. It should then be drawn over a 
thin board or stretcher sharpened at the end to fit 
the head, fur side in. It can be kept in place with 
tacks until dry. It ain’t required to skin out a ’coon’s 
feet. Cut down the four legs and rip the skin along 
the belly ; the tail has also got to be split on the 
under side before you can get the bone out. A 
’coon skin ought to be tacked up on a wall or flat 
board, and some of the fat trimmed off, but not 
enough to hurt the fibre of the skin.” 

“ How many animals do you think we ought to 
get, Uncle Jim ? ” asked Jack. 

Uncle Jim smiled. 

“ So many lads have asked me that same question 
I kind of mistrust givin’ an opinion. It all depends 
on yourselves ; if you tend to business faithful, and 
don’t fool your time away, you ought to get sixty or 
eighty pelts by the first of the year.” 

“ We are very much obliged for what you’ve told 
us,” said Jack, as he and Dan reluctantly said good- 
bye an hour later. “ Can’t you come up and pay us 
a visit ? ” 

“I’ll be up some day,” the old man promised. 
“ Come again ! ” 

It was late when the boys got back home, and, not- 
withstanding their long tramp, sat up and discussed 


DAN EL WOOD AT HOME 


249 


the coming outing until midnight. Then they went 
up to bed together and talked an hour more. At 
exactly five o’clock Dan’s alarm clock set up a deaf- 
ening rattle, at which two very sleepy lads tumbled 
out of bed. Dan looked out of the window and saw 
in the lifting mist and clear, cold sky the welcome 
promise of a fine day. 



GRAY FOX. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 

J ACK was justly delighted with the cabin in Little 
Bear Swamp, for Dan had selected an ideal spot 
for the cosy shooting-box, which had been built with 
extraordinary care. It stood on high ground in the 
midst of great stretches of evergreen, birch and alder, 
and in size was about ten by twelve feet on the inside 
of the walls. Its north end was tucked against a 
dark mass of pitch-pine and hemlock, and was se- 
curely sheltered from all winds from that quarter. 
Two windows — one on the south side and one on 
the east — admitted sufficient light. A stout door 
of hemlock boards had been built in the south end, 
the high peak roof being also of hemlock. Pitch- 
pine boards had been used for flooring and in the 
construction of two bunks, one above the other, 
sailor fashion, that filled the north end of the cabin, 
the remaining space Dan having left to serve as a 
wardrobe. 

The stove had been placed on the west side, close 
to the wall, from which a high pipe ran above the 
peak of the roof to ensure a good draft. Dan had 
250 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 


251 


made a neat table, using saplings for the legs, which 
stood by the south window. Along both sides of the 
cabin the young mountaineer had driven rows of pegs, 
upon which were hung steel traps, dog chains, coils of 
rope, tin pails, and extra clothing as Jack entered and 
looked about him. The table was piled high with 
small bags of wheat and buckwheat flour, corn meal, 
coffee and tea, baking powder, sugar, spices, boxes of 
ammunition, a crock of butter, a pail of lard, two 
small hams, a side of bacon, and some cans of con- 
densed milk. A half bushel of potatoes and a bag of 
onions stood on the floor hard by. 

“ Isn’t it great ! ” cried Jack, as he and the dogs 
started on a tour of inspection. “ Say, Dan, you 
must have had to work like a beaver to do all this.” 

“Well, we did,” admitted Dan, placing his shot- 
gun, rifle, and Jack’s small-bore rifle — a present from 
Harvey — safely away in the upper bunk. “Jonas 
and I cut the logs and hauled them in with the 
horses. I was particular they should all be straight, 
so we had to take all kinds of timber : maple, red 
oak, white oak, cedar, chestnut, hemlock, and ash, 
and I guess even some basswood.” 

“ What’s between the logs ? ” 

“ Moss, mud, and chunks of wood where there was 
an extra big crack.” 

“It looks air-tight,” commented Jack. “You 
couldn’t have chosen a better place.” 

“ I guess not. Why, that spring never goes dry,” 


252 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

declared Dan, pointing to a tiny pool of water under 
the nearest elm-tree. “ That’s not a very big wood- 
pile,” he added, apologetically, “but snow’s a long 
way off.” 

“We’ve got a lot to do,” said Jack, throwing off 
his coat ; “these things have got to be put away and 
the bunks made up.” 

“Well, let’s get to work,” answered Dan. “If we 
get around lively, we’ll have a chance to put out a 
line of traps this afternoon.” 

The boys accordingly fell to work with a will. 
Dan made neat lids for two cracker-boxes and hung 
them on leather hinges. He then put up a wide 
shelf and placed the boxes thereon. Jack put the 
groceries away in these, made up the beds on fra- 
grant evergreen boughs, and helped Dan in with the 
“night wood,” which was neatly stacked behind 
the tiny stove. A small box of kindling was also 
brought in, and a fire started. Dan filled a pail at 
the spring and put on the bright copper kettle that 
had cost him a dollar. As soon as the water boiled 
his cousin made tea and placed the slices of bacon 
and buttered biscuits they had brought with them on 
the table. In a few minutes the boys drew up their 
stools and began the first meal of that memorable 
outing. 

Early in the afternoon they locked the cabin door 
and started off with an even dozen traps. They left 
the dogs to guard the camp and took the trail that 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 


253 


ran over Long Mountain to Orshank Swamp. They 
began at once to build stone houses along the spring 
brook that emptied into Orshank Swamp, baiting the 
traps with squirrel and fish-heads Dan had saved for 
the occasion. Dan carried a hunter’s hatchet in his 
cartridge-belt, and cut-drags as Uncle Jim had directed. 
It took them four hours to build the houses and set the 
traps along two miles of the brook. 

“ Well, we’d ought to have something by to-mor- 
row morning,” said Dan, sanguinely, for he had been 
generous with his bait, and along the muddy parts of 
the stream many “signs ” of mink and raccoon were 
noticeable. 

“I hope so,” said Jack, in reply. “How far are 
we from camp ? ” 

“ About three miles,” said Dan, promptly. “ Are 
you tired ? ” 

“ Not much.” 

“ We’ll get back early,” continued Dan. “ There’s 
no use of both checking these traps up to-morrow. 
The season’s already well along, and we’ve got to get 
another line out before it turns cold. You can look 
after these early to-morrow, and I’ll put out ten or 
twelve Pond Eddy way,” he proposed, in conclusion. 

“All right,” Jack agreed. “Then we can get 
back for a Thanksgiving dinner.” 

“We can if we start early,” said Dan, measuring 
the westward drop of the sun. “ It’s after four, 
now,” he added, taking up his Winchester. “ Let’s 


254 TW0 BOYS in the blue ridge 

be going. We can cut off over a mile by striking 
thfough the woods.” 

He shouldered the rifle and started off, Jack fol- 
lowing empty-handed. On reaching the shelving 
ledges at the shoulder of Long Mountain, Dan sud- 
denly stopped short, and, cocking his head, hearkened 
to some faint sounds blown from South Mountain. 

“ What’s that ? ” 

“ Sounds like a hound,” said Jack. 

“Yes, and it’s coming nearer. Let’s hurry down 
to the oak-tree,” replied Dan, suiting the action to 
the word. “ If it’s a deer, I’ll show you some sport.” 

The oak-tree runway was reached after a brisk run 
of nearly two furlongs. It is the only place a deer 
on its way to water at the Twin Lakes can get 
through the ledges. The hunter usually stands at 
the foot of a huge oak-tree, from which position a 
good view of Little Bear Swamp and the further 
mountain can be had. Jack was pretty well out of 
breath when Dan drew up behind the tree-trunk and 
scanned the valley and further mountainside. 

“ They’re cornin’ nearer,” said the latter. “ There ! 
see the deer ! ” 

Jack looked in the direction indicated and saw the 
reddish-gray animal bounding up the mountainside 
like a rubber ball. Dan held the butt of the rifle 
toward his cousin, but Jack declined the shot. 

“You shoot, Dan!” he cried, under his breath. 
“ See him go ! ” 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 


255 


Dan accordingly stepped from his shelter, raised 
the weapon and fired. Up flew the buck’s tail, and 
he seemed fairly to sail over the scrub-oaks as the 
ball struck the brush unpleasantly close. Fearing to 
turn back toward the dog, 
and doubtless sighting the 
boys on the runway, the 
frightened animal veered 
and swept along the moun- 
tain with increased speed. 

Dan followed the fleeing 
form for a couple of bounds, 
and, sighting just ahead of 
the left shoulder when the 
stag struck, pressed the 
t r i g g e r. The beautiful 
creature gave one convul- / 
sive leap, landed heavily ! 
on all fours, and rolled 
completely over. 

“ He’s down ! ” cried 
Jack, excitedly. “Say, 

Dan, that was a bully 
shot ! ” 

“ I wonder whose dog it is,” said Dan, as the 
boys hurried down to their quarry. Dan cut the 
buck’s throat, and waited for the hound to put in 
an appearance. In a few moments a spotted fox- 
hound broke from a black alder swale and galloped 



256 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

over the deer’s track, giving voice at every other 
jump. 

“ It’s Joe Vogt’s hound!” exclaimed Dan, as the 
animal joined them and began sniffing eagerly at the 
dead deer. “Yes, it’s down,” continued Dan, speak- 
ing to the dog. “ Good dog ! but you’d better take 
your back track home — go home ! ” 

The surprised dog slunk away as Dan picked up a 
stick and raised it threateningly. 

f‘ Why do you do that ? ” Jack wanted to know. 

“ For two reasons : if anybody’s been hunting with 
that dog, he’ll know that the deer’s been shot or that 
the dog’s quit it ; if the dog’s been running wild, it’s 
better to send him back at once, or we’d have to club 
him good to get rid of him,” explained Dan. 

“ Then the deer doesn’t belong to us ? ” 

“ Part of it ; we’re entitled to at least a hind quar- 
ter. It’s a nice little buck, and we’d better carry it 
into camp at once. Can you take an end ? ” 

“ I think so,” answered Jack, as Dan cut a hickory 
sapling, tied the buck’s legs together with stout 
twine, and strung the animal on the stick. 

It proved quite a load, especially for Jack, who was 
not used to rough work of any kind. Dan insisted 
on carrying the rifle also, and, by shouldering the 
heavier end of the sapling, made things as easy as 
possible for his chum. Still, the buck seemed to 
have doubled his weight by the time they got him 
into camp and hung up in a neighbouring tree. The 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 


257 


boys were pretty tired by dark, but built a good fire 
in the little stove and cooked some slices of ham. 
They felt refreshed after a hot supper, and were 
sitting about the crackling fire discussing their hopes 
and plans with all the enthusiasm of their young hearts, 
when Dan’s quick ear caught the sound of Fly’s mel- 
low voice echoing from the lower end of the swamp. 

“ They’ve treed something, Jack ! ” he cried, pick- 
ing up his hat and reaching for the little rifle. 
“ Come on ! ” 

The boys hurried down the ridge and plunged 
through laurel and rhododendron bushes toward the 
dogs, which kept up an incessant barking at the foot 
of a large chestnut-tree, in the topmost branches of 
which the silhouette of a full-grown raccoon loomed 
clearly. 

“ It’s a coon ! ” cried Dan, circling the tree until 
he got the animal in line with the full, pale moon. 
“ Take a fine sight at the moon, Jack, and when you 
draw across him, pull the trigger. You can tell by 
the way the sights will be blotted out.” 

Jack raised the little weapon and took careful aim 
at the orb, swinging the barrel slowly toward the 
crouching form. He could see the animal’s eyes 
glistening like coals of fire, and when the sights lost 
themselves against the dark mass, fired. At the 
faint, sharp report, the raccoon swayed unsteadily, 
lost its hold and came tumbling through the air, heels 
over head. 


258 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

“Back, Shep! back you, Fly!” cried Dan, des- 
patching the wounded animal with a stout club. 
“First fur, Jack! How’s that for a ’coon? it’s 
nearly black.” 

When the lads got back to the cabin, Dan hung 



“ ‘ it’s a coon \ ’ ” 


the ’coon from a rafter and began at once to remove 
the pelt, which took him twenty minutes or more. 
Then Jack held a lantern while Dan tacked it up on 
the outside of the building. 

The boys were up bright and early next morning. 
After a hasty breakfast, Jack started to check up the 


AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 


259 


traps along Orshank Brook, while Dan shouldered a 
quantity of bait and a dozen traps and headed for 
Pond Eddy. 

Jack carried his small-bore rifle, with which he 
managed to surprise a muskrat and a skunk before 
reaching the first trap. The fur of the former ani- 
mal is not very vaulable, a prime muskrat pelt seldom 
selling for more than twenty cents, while the fur of. 
the skunk, which parddes under the euphemistic title 
of Alaskan sable among retail dealers in manufac- 
tured furs, is highly popular and sells readily, a black 
skunk killed from November to March being worth 
about two dollars ; those striped with white bring 
much less. Jack did not attempt to skin these ani- 
mals, but put them into his bait-bag and continued 
down the brook. 

He found that nothing had visited either of the 
first traps, but found a large ’coon in the third, and 
another in the sixth. He removed the pelts from 
these at once, after shooting them in the head, and 
set the traps again, adding fresh bait. He found 
nothing in the next five traps, but in the last he sur 
prised a magnificent red fox that had been unable to 
resist the portion of ruffed grouse sly Dan had used 
for bait. Not wishing to injure this pelt in any way, 
Jack took careful aim and fired between the cunning 
eyes, causing instant death. 

The lad next tied the hind legs together and slung 
the animal over his shoulder on the barrel of his 


26 o 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


rifle, carrying the bait bag in his hand. He hurried 
back to camp, where he found Dan awaiting him. It 
was then nearly noon, but Dan at once set about 
skinning the fox while Jack tacked up the ’coon- 
skins. Dan also made stretchers for the skunk and 
muskrat pelts, which were hung beside the ’coons. 

“ I haven’t got time now to make a decent fox- 
stretcher,” said Dan, turning the fox-pelt fur side out 
and inserting a hickory switch, bent in the shape of a 
horseshoe, to preserve the shape until he could make 
the stretcher. This skin was also tacked up with the 
others, the six making a very promising start. 

“ Well, we’d ought to do well for awhile,” said 
Dan, with a final glance at the line of pelts. “ You 
see, there hasn’t been any trapping here for years, 
and this is just the kind of weather when the animals 
are most on the move. As soon as it gets good and 
cold, you won’t hear of a ’coon again until there 
comes a warm spell. How about dinner ? ” 

“How about it!” repeated Jack. “I’m nearly 
famished.” 

“We hadn’t better cut up that buck just yet,” 
said Dan, thoughtfully, “ and we don’t want ham for 
Thanksgiving. Let’s start a rabbit.” 

Accordingly, after calling the dogs, the boys 
started for a little meadow at the foot of the ridge. 
Jack took his- stand on a high ledge of rocks, while 
Dan crossed over and sent the dogs in. The sun 
had dried the grass so that the scent was poor, but 



JACK HELD UP THE RABBIT, 



































AN INTERRUPTED REPAST 


263 


presently Shep kicked out a big gray fellow and Fly 
joined him in a merry chase. After a couple of turns 
through the alders, during which Dan tried hard for 
a shot, the rabbit circled to Jack’s side in a twin- 
kling. 

Jack could see the rabbit bounding over the rank 
tufts of grass and up the ledges, where it sat listen- 
ing to the baying of the dogs. Jack raised his rifle, 
and, taking quick aim, pressed the trigger. The little 
animal fell in a heap, still kicking, at which Jack 
hurried to pick it up, not, however, without a tinge 
of regret. He held it up to Dan, who presently 
crossed the meadow and whistled for the dogs. 

Dan made what he called a “game pot-pie” by 
quartering the rabbit and adding onions, potatoes, a 
slice or two of bacon, salt and pepper, and some 
water. When these were thoroughly boiled, he 
sliced several biscuits, upon which he poured the 
gravy after removing the meat and vegetables. In 
the meantime Jack had made coffee and set the 
table. 

c; Pour out your coffee,” said Dan, as he arranged 
the pot-pie on a small platter. 

The boys were soon eating ravenously. 

“ It’s simply great,” Jack remarked, helping him- 
self for the second time. “ Where did you learn to 
make it ? ” 

“ Uncle Jim made it once at our house when 
grandma was away,” said Dan, sipping the fragrant 


264 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

coffee. “ Who’s that ? ” he asked, abruptly, as the 
watchful dogs announced strangers. The boys put 
down their cups and leaned toward the open window. 

“ There it hangs now ! ” said an angry voice. “ I 
told you that buck never got to water.” 

“ It’s Vance Ladell ! ” announced Dan, tipping 
back on his stool and folding his arms meditatively. 

“ What on earth does he want here ? ” asked Jack, 
coolly continuing his meal. 

“ Why, here they be now, right at home,” con- 
tinued Vance, as he and a companion turned the 
corner of the cabin. “ I say, Dan Elwood, I’ve got 
something to say to you when you’re ready.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


LIFE IN THE WOODS 


'HERE’S no time like the 
present,” said Dan, la- 
conically, rising from his 
stool at Ladell’s taunting 
words. “ What’s the mat- 
ter with you, anyway ? ” 

“ Matter enough,” 
stormed the woodsman, 
pointing toward the 
buck. “ Where did 
you get that deer ? ” 

“ What’s it to you ? ” 
asked Dan, coolly. 
Lad ell put down his 
rifle and stood upon the large flat stone that served 
as a doorstep. Dan stood in the doorway, resting his 
shoulder against the frame, his hands in his pockets. 

“ Where did you get it ? ” Vance repeated, menac- 
ingly, rising on his toes and falling on his heels to 
emphasise the words. 



VANCE LADELL. 


265 


266 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“Since you’re bound to know,” replied Dan, with 
just a crease of irritation on his forehead, “I sup- 
pose I’ve got to tell you.” 

“You most certainly have,” persisted the guide, 
unable to conceal his satisfaction at the answer. 

“Shall I tell him?” asked Dan, turning to his 
cousin with a sly wink. 

“Do just as you like,” said Jack, who was anxious 
to return to the pot-pie. 

There was an expectant silence as Dan scratched 
his head in evident reflection. 

“Oh, you don’t have to think it out,” snapped 
Ladell, impatiently. “You know right well where 
you got it ! ” 

“Of course I do.” 

“ Where, then ? ” 

“Why, we got it in the woods,” answered Dan, 
soberly. 

Ladell’s companion, who carried a hammerless 
shotgun and was dressed in a natty canvas shooting- 
suit, regarded the speaker through a pair of gold- 
rimmed eyeglasses. His manner, in striking con- 
trast to the guide’s, was remarkably dignified and 
collected. 

“ None of your jokes,” sneered Vance. “ Own up : 
that buck was shot in front of my dog yesterday 
afternoon, and belongs to my party.” 

“ I thought you didn’t own a dog,” observed Dan, 
nonchalantly. 


LIFE IN THE WOODS 


267 


“ That’s pretty, that is ! Didn’t you tell me your- 
self to buy Joe Vogt’s dog?” demanded the woods- 
man, wrathfully. 

“ I said he had a hound for sale,” corrected Dan, 
sharply. 

“Well, I went and bought him and started that 
same two-prong buck yesterday afternoon, and he 
belongs to my party.” 

“ The dog ? ” 

“ No, the buck ! ” cried Ladell, knocking the ashes 
from his pipe with a vengeance. “I’ll bet my hat 
you shot him on the oak-tree runway. Why don’t 
you deny it?” 

“ What’s the use ? ” 

“ So you admit it ! that makes him our meat. 
Come on, Mr. Paget, we’ll tote him off,” continued 
Vance, tentatively. 

“You’ll tote nothing off,” objected Dan, steadily. 

“What’s the reason we won’t?” the woodsman 
inquired, in a blustering tone. 

“Reason enough,” said Dan. “You’ve got to 
prove that you own the dog, and then you’ve got 
to dress the buck and give us a hind quarter.” 

“Excuse me, young men,” interposed the sports- 
man, before Vance could reply. “What is the law 
in this matter ? ” 

“The game belongs to the state, and whoever 
shoots it on wild land in the open season can claim 
it lawfully,” cried Dan, triumphantly. 


268 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


“ You know that ain’t hunters’ law,” whined Vance. 
“The owner of the dog can claim head, hide, and 
three-quarters of the meat.” 

“ But this hunters’ law, as you call it, is still un- 
written,” explained the sportsman, suavely. “The 
young man must decide whether he will abide by it 
or not. You have been too hasty, Ladell.” 

Vance threw his soft hat on the turf and stamped 
upon it in a frenzy. 

“ He’s got to hold to it,” he cried, passionately. 
“ Mr. Paget, you know I went to Shohola yesterday 
and bought that dog.” 

“ I can testify to that, and I feel pretty sure 
that’s the deer we started, as I had two shots at it 
myself.” 

“ Hear that ? What are you going to do about 
it ? ” demanded Ladell. 

“I’m a hunter myself, and I’ll abide by hunters’ 
law, as I intended doing all along ; that’s why we 
didn’t cut the buck up for to-day’s dinner.” 

Mr. Paget extended his hand. 

“That’s awfully good of you, don’t you know,” he 
said, warmly. “ I’ve got a party of friends up with 
me, and it will cheer them up — we’ve been having 
wretched luck.” 

“Why, you’re welcome to it, I’m sure,” said Dan. 

“ What a trim little place you have here ! ” ven- 
tured the gentleman. “ May I step inside ?.” 

“Certainly,” said Dan. “Make yourself at home.” 


LIFE IN THE WOODS 


269 


“ Everything so nice and handy, — ‘ snug as a bug 
in a rug,’ as the saying is. Jove ! but that smells 
good!” he exclaimed, sniffing hungrily at the cook- 
ing stew. 

“ It’s a rabbit pot-pie,” Dan explained. “ I’m 
sorry there isn’t more of it.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” laughed the sportsman, who 
understood that his guide would have been de trop 
at the little table. “When you finish your meal, 
we’ll cut out your quarter.” 

“Don’t bother about that,” Dan answered, gener- 
ously ; “ take it along as it is — it’ll carry better.” 

“ That’s awfully clever of you,” said Mr. Paget, 
sincerely. “ Have a cigar, do,” he urged, passing a 
leather case to Dan. 

“ I don’t smoke, thank you,” said Dan, promptly. 

“ Perhaps your friend — ” 

“ Nor I,” added Jack, as Dan returned the case ; 
“but thank you just the same.” 

“ Where did you get those animals ? ” asked the 
sportsman, as his eye fell on the line of pelts. 

Dan glanced at Ladell, who was sitting on the 
chopping-block, the very picture of sulky indifference 
— he, too, had seen the pelts. 

“We got them in the woods this morning — that 
is, all but the biggest ’coon, which my dog treed last 
night.” 

“ I should say that was a fine fox-skin,” observed 
the other. “ What are the little animals ? ” 


2JO TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

“ The black one is a skunk, the one with the hair- 
less tail is a muskrat.” 

“ I shouldn’t have guessed it. And what are the 
six worth, may I ask ?” 

“ About seven dollars,” said Dan ; “ you see they’re 
all prime furs, white on the raw side.” 

“ Well ! well ! I had an impression that skunks 
were very offensive animals.” 

“ Not if instantly killed and properly skinned ; this 
one, you see, has little or no odour,” Dan explained. 
“The skins should be kept in a cool, dry place in- 
doors, but we haven’t such a place handy.” 

“ It’s all very interesting,” commented Mr. Paget. 
“ I’d like permission to bring my friends over for a 
call. Do you mind ? ” 

“We should be glad to have you,” said Dan, 
cordially. 

“ Thanks. Now, Ladell, we’ll take the buck 
and go.” 

“ Ain’t you goin’ to cut it up ? ” grumbled the 
guide. 

“No; the young man has generously offered us 
the whole.” 

A smile of derision stole over Vance’s sunburned 
face. 

“ I’ll take it,” he said, briefly. “ You can carry 
my gun.” 

He cut a short stick from a sapling on the chop- 
ping-block and ran it through the hind legs of the 


LIFE IN THE WOODS 27 1 

buck, which he swung to his back without further 
ado and started down the trail. 

“You must excuse that fellow, boys,” said Mr. 
Paget, with an apologetic smile as he shouldered 
the guns. “He’s anxious to please us, and forgets 
himself.” 

“That’s all right,” said Dan, ingenuously. “We 
don’t bear him any ill-will, sir.” 

“ Gracious ! ” exclaimed Jack, whose encounter with 
Chub Colwell had left him very chary. “ I thought 
at first you were going to fight.” 

“ Fight ! Why, say, Jack, Vance Ladell hasn’t 
got fight in any part of him. I suppose the stew’s 
stone cold by this time.” 

“ No, it isn’t. I kept it in the open oven,” said 
Jack. “ Let’s sit down and finish it.” 

“ You should have seen Ladell’s face when Mr. 
Paget talked about the furs,” said Dan, slicing the 
corner from a biscuit. 

“ I saw it from the window when he first noticed 
the pelts, and it turned as black as that kettle.” 

“ He’s got an absurd notion that he owns all the 
game in the woods,” laughed Dan, in reply. “You 
let me know if you find any traps sprung, Jack ; it’s 
just like Vance to make us all the trouble he can.” 

“Why doesn’t he put out traps himself?” 

“ I guess he’s too lazy. Anyhow, we won’t discuss 
that ; but if he gets funny around here, I’ll punch his 
head,” concluded Dan, as he fell to eating in earnest. 


2J2 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDT$E 

'f 

For the next six or eight days the weather con- 
tinued favourable, though the dry nights were bitter 
cold. The boys spent the mornings in going over 
the lines of traps, and the afternoons on the wood- 
pile, hunting with the dogs, or in putting out fox- 
beds of chaff as Uncle Jim had directed. They also 
set fox-traps in springs, which required considerable 
care, for the fox is rightly considered one of the 
slyest of wild animals, and is exceedingly difficult to 
trap. 

Sometimes, if it chanced to be raining, they would 
spend the afternoons indoors, writing letters or mak- 
ing stretchers and deadfalls. Twice every week 
Grandma Elwood sent Jonas over ostensibly with 
eggs and milk, but really to bring news of her 
grandsons, whose expedition into the woods she 
regarded with proper feminine horror. The dutiful 
grandsons invariably sent back assuring notes, plump 
grouse, and a bundle of letters. 

One cool, misty night — it was on a Thursday, two 
weeks after Thanksgiving — the boys had gathered 
around the stove for their customary evening chat, 
when they were pleasantly surprised by hearing Fly 
give woice in the swale west of the cabin. They 
caught up their hats at once, Jack taking Dan’s shot- 
gun. It was quite dark, but the lads, laughing and 
shouting, plunged down the hill toward the dogs, 
trusting to luck to avoid mishap. At the head of 
the swale, in a patch of dwarf fir-trees, they came 


LIFE IN THE WOODS 


273 


upon the eager canines, who had lost the scent and 
were circling about to pick it up. Fly suddenly gave 
voice and started up the steep ridge with a mellow 
“ wowoo ” that echoed and reechoed along the moun- 
tainside. 

“ It’s likely a ’coon,” called Dan, who was some- 
what in advance. “ He’s treed ! ” 

As he spoke the dogs set up an impatient barking, 
but before the boys had gone fifty yards, again gave 
tongue and started toward the ledges. 

“ I’ll bet it’s a gray fox,” shouted Dan, encourag- 
ingly. “ That animal’s surely treed.” 

On nearing the runway both dogs again began a 
lusty barking at the foot of a towering pitch-pine. 

“ See ! there it is ! ” cried Dan, pointing to two 
tawny, gleaming eyes close to the tree-trunk. “ It’s 
a lynx.” 

As he imparted this interesting piece of news, 
Jack fired. The wildcat set up a hideous scream 
and started up the tree-trunk, but came tumbling to 
the ground at Jack’s second shot. Both dogs dashed 
in, but the wildcat was up and away before they 
closed. 

“ Go it, Shep ! catch him ! catch him, Fly ! ” 
shouted Dan, stumbling along behind his pets. 
“ He’s hurt, Jack. Keep it up ! ” 

The lynx circled several times on the next ridge, 
and then cut a bee-line for South Mountain, the dogs 
hot at his heels. The boys soon became separated, 

« 


274 TW0 B0YS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

but kept on after the dogs, slipping, falling, and slid- 
ing over the moist rocks that held the scent so well. 
The dogs lost the track again in a thick grove of 
heavy timber, and, despite Jack’s encouraging pres- 
ence, were unable to find it. Jack therefore sensibly 
decided that it would be impossible to locate the 
animal, and, walking out to a point of rocks, called 
to his chum. 

“ The cat’s got away, Dan,” he shouted; “big, 
black timber.” 

“ Are you sure ? ” 

“ Sure,” answered Jack, positively. 

“Too bad,” Dan called. “I’ll go back on this 
side.” 

“ What’s the matter ? ” 

“ Nothing ; no use of crossing the swamp.” 

“All right,” holloaed Jack, as he started to pick his 
way down to the trail at the foot of the mountain. 
Reaching camp half an hour later, he replenished 
the fire, shut off the draughts, and tumbled into bed, 
momentarily expecting his chum to appear. He was 
pretty tired, and before he realised it had fallen 
asleep. When the clock struck six next morning 
he roused himself with a vague feeling of uneasiness, 
and leaning over the side of the bunk, which was the 
upper one, looked down into the other. It was 
empty ! 

Hastily pulling on his clothes, he opened the door 
and stepped out into the uncertain light, whistling 


LIFE IN THE WOODS 


275 


for the dogs. Shep alone put in an appearance, and 
then Jack remembered that Fly had not followed 
him home. 

“ Where’s Dan, Shep ? ” he asked the intelligent 
animal. “ Where’s Fly ? ” 

Shep whined impatiently, no doubt supposing they 
were off after game. 

“ Hunt ’em up,” urged Jack, who felt a strange 
sensation of impending disaster. “ Good old dog ! 
hunt ’em up.” 

Shep trotted down to the swale, sniffing eagerly ; 
then, as his quick ear caught some familiar sound, 
bounded off in the direction of the oak-tree run- 
way. 

“ Come back ! ” cried Jack, angrily. “ Here, 
Shep ! ” 

The obedient animal unwillingly returned, now for 
some reason whining piteously. 

“ Now you take me to Dan ! ” 

Shep struck a more moderate gait, Jack following 
close at his heels. They reached the great ledges in 
about twenty minutes. At irregular intervals Jack 
could hear Fly’s voice, clear as a bell, which guided 
him to the edge of one of the highest ledges. On 
glancing down at the turf forty feet below him, he 
beheld Dan’s prostrate form, guarded by the faith- 
ful hound, and, with a muffled cry, ran along the 
ledge-top in search of a place to descend. All 
the time Fly sent up mellow notes of distress 


2j6 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


into the gray dawn, but, as soon as she caught sight 
of Jack and Shep, sniffed eagerly about her master’s 
face. 

“ O Dan ! ” cried Jack, fixing his wild eyes on the 
white, still face. Something about the stricken lad 
must have given him hope, for, picking up Dan’s 
hat, he plunged swiftly down to the swamp for 
water, and, returning in an incredibly short time, 
began bathing the upturned face. 

“ O Danny, are you much hurt?” moaned Jack, 
as Dan opened his eyes, and instinctively raised a 
hand to his head. 

“ Jack ! ” 

That was all Dan said, but it was enough to turn 
all the gray of early dawn to sunny gold. Jack 
rubbed the benumbed hands, fixed his coat for a 
pillow and gave him a drink. 

“ I guess I lost my way and took a header off that 
wall,” said Dan, laconically. “All right soon. My! 
how my head hurts ! ” 

“ Keep quiet. I’ll build a fire,” said Jack, who 
understood Dan’s feelings exactly. 

“ No, Jack. Get me back to camp — I’m able to 
walk.” 

“You struck on your head,” said Jack, feeling of 
the matted hair. , 

“ I hit the trees first, and they saved me.” 

“You can’t walk yet,” argued Jack. “I know 
you can’t ; and I can’t carry you.” 


LIFE IN THE WOODS 2 77 

“You just help me to my feet and lend me a 
shoulder,” proposed Dan, who was clear grit. “ I’ve 
simply got to get to bed and have a good sweat.” 
His teeth chattered as he spoke. 

Jack did as Dan wished, and, to his joyful surprise, 
Dan kept on his feet ; but it was a painful journey 
back to the cabin. 

“ I guess you feel better now, don’t you ? ” asked 
Jack, when, nearly two hours later, Dan had swal- „ 
lowed a bowl of steaming tea. “ Now have a good 
sleep and you’ll come around all right.” 

Strong as Dan was, it took him several days to 
recover from the shock of the fall, and shake off a 
bad cold. Jack nursed him faithfully, and insisted 
on checking up the traps alone Monday morning, as 
his cousin was still under the weather. The day’s 
catch amounted to nine pelts all told, four animals 
having escaped since the boys’ last visit Thursday 
morning. The outside of the little building was by 
this time pretty well covered with skins, and looked 
the part of a trapper’s cabin to a T. Up to this 
time the boys had captured, all told, thirty-nine 
animals : six gray and five red foxes, seventeen rac- 
coons, eight minks, two skunks, and a muskrat, which 
they valued together at fifty dollars. 

“ We ought to get a bear -now, and then we’d have 
something to talk about,” remarked Dan, who was 
beginning to feel his old self again. “ If I thought 
that bear Kane’s boy spoke about was wintering in 


278 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


Dark Swamp, we’d take the dogs over after the first 
snow and make a drive.” 

“ Let’s do it, anyway. We might put out a wild- 
cat, too,” replied Jack, whose taste for adventure was 
still strong. 

“Then consider it settled,” said Dan, in reply. 

But, though old bear-tracks were plainly visible on 
their first and second visits, it was not until their 
third hard trip over to Dark Swamp that a bear 
was finally started. The dogs took a big, fresh track 
late in the forenoon, and went into the dense ever- 
greens at a merry clip. For nearly four hours they 
ran the great brute through laurel, rhododendron, and 
cedar. About three o’clock Dan heard a worrying 
noise, as if the bear had turned at bay, and there- 
after Fly’s voice alone was heard. Dan had taken a 
stand in a line with Orshank Swamp, and had sta- 
tioned Jack in a line with Big Bear Swamp; for, 
remembering what Uncle Jim had once told him, 
that a bear made straight from swamp to swamp, 
he had in this way prepared himself to check Bruin’s 
retreat. 

Toward sundown Jack heard the hound coming 
down the swamp, closer and closer, until a huge black 
form poked itself over the tree-tops at the head of 
the swale, and shambled off toward the neighbouring 
swamp. It looked as big as an elephant to Jack, 
who took a quartering shot at the bear’s left shoul- 
der. The bullet must have gone home, for, with a 


LIFE IN THE WOODS 


279 


mighty roar, the bear turned savagely and snapped 
at brave old Fly, who was nipping and worrying him 
at every step. Jack dropped the lever and fired once, 
twice, always at the left shoulder. In a few seconds 
the bear began to sway unsteadily, and went down 
in a heap, shot through the heart. 

Dan hurried up with a lusty cheer, and, after con- 



“ WHO WAS NIPPING AND WORRYING HIM AT EVERY STEP.” 


vincing himself that Bruin had breathed his last, cut 
the old fellow’s throat. 

“ I’m afraid he’s done for Shep,” said he, soberly. 
“ I heard them at it tooth and nail over two hours 
ago. I’ve got to go back and look for Shep.” 

“But it’s getting dark,” said Jack, “and you’ll get 
lost in that gloomy place.” 

“ I can’t help it,” Dan argued, as he started off 
again. He entered the swamp opposite where he 
supposed the fight had taken place, and, after an 
hour’s search, came upon the wounded dog. In cross- 


2 8o 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


ing a small patch of ice the dog had broken in, and, 
before he could crawl out, the bear had attacked him. 
Dan lifted him- up in his arms, and, taking his back 
track, rejoined his chum. 

They left the bear where it had fallen, and started 
through the gathering darkness for the cabin, which 
was not reached until after nine o’clock. Dan at once 
set about dressing Shep’s wounds and putting a splint 
on the gallant dog’s broken fore leg. 

“It’ll end his hunting this season,” said Dan, sor- 
rowfully, as he made a warm bed for his pet behind 
the stove. “ I’ll carry him back home to-morrow, 
Jack. We’ll have to go down to Pond Eddy and hire 
a couple of men and a team, too, for we can never 
get the bear out this way.” 

This plan was carried out, both boys leaving for 
the river hamlet early the next morning. The news 
of their good luck spread rapidly along the line, and, 
by the time they got the bear down to the village, 
several would-be purchasers had arrived. An agent 
of the American Museum of Natural History, who 
chanced to be in Port Jervis at the time, ran up to 
inspect the bear, which was pronounced to be a re- 
markably fine specimen. He offered forty dollars for 
it, which was accepted. 

“ It’s just so much more than we’d have if we sold 
the skin alone,” said Dan; “and then there’s the 
satisfaction of being able to see the old fellow in a 
glass case whenever you want to.” 


LIFE IN THE WOODS 


28l 


“Yes; I hadn’t thought of that,” Jack replied. 
“Where are we going to spend the night ? ” 

“We’d better take ‘ Number thirty ’ to Cragstone, 
and spend the night with grandma, for it’s going to 
snow,” said Dan. “ I wonder how she’d like the idea 
of your shooting a bear ! Why didn’t you tell her 
last night ? ” 

Both boys laughed. 

“You’d better not worry her,” said Jack, as they 
entered the waiting-room. 

Next morning, after an early breakfast of buck- 
wheat cakes and coffee, the boys bade good-bye to 
Mrs. El wood and Jonas, and started for the woods. 
As Dan had predicted, it had snowed hard during the 
night, and was still snowing when they left. They 
took Fly with them, of course, reaching Little Bear 
Swamp after a hard tramp. As they came in sight 
of the cabin, Dan suddenly stood stock-still in his 
tracks. 

“ Look there ! ” he cried, aghast, pointing toward 
the shooting-box. 

Jack raised his eyes, and saw that not a single pelt 
remained upon the building. 


CHAPTER XV. 


CONCLUSION 

“ T’LL bet that’s the work of Vance Ladell ! ” Dan 

-L cried, hotly, when the boys had partially recov- 
ered from their stupefaction. 

“Whoever it is,” answered Jack, more charitably, 
“he was here yesterday, and relied upon the coming 
storm to cover his tracks.” 

“You might just as well try to track a crow,” re- 
marked Dan in disgust. “ It was poor policy to 
leave so many furs unguarded. Well, they’re gone 
for ever now.” 

The boys lighted a fire and sat about the stove in 
a very much disturbed frame of mind, too intent on 
the loss of their peltry to think of dinner. 

“It’s good we sold the bear, anyhow,” said Jack, 
consolingly. 

“We’ll get few skins from now out,” predicted 
Dan, morosely. “We’ll have deep snows, ice storms, 
and cold rains. We’ll have to dig the traps out, and 
the bait’ll freeze up and give no scent.” 

It was just as he said. For the next ten days 
282 


CONCLUSION 


283 


checking up the traps proved the hardest kind of 
work, the lads rarely reaching the cabin before four 
o’clock each day, tired, hungry, and cross. During 
this period of their sojourn, the catch consisted of 
only two minks. These days were dark enough, but 
with praiseworthy perseverance they stuck to their 
work, and grumbled as little as possible when they 
met at night. 

Dan found time to make a trip to the river hamlets 
from Port Jervis to Lacka waxen, informing the 
station agents of their loss, and asking to have word 
sent to the cabin in case of any unusual shipment of 
furs. But not until the next Tuesday did they hear 
anything encouraging, and then the information came 
from a very unexpected source. About noon of that 
day they were surprised by a call from a river boy, 
whom Dan at once recognised, despite the fact that 
the little fellow was well bundled up in a coat several 
sizes too large. 

“It’s Kirk Ladell,” he said to Jack, under his 
breath, as the lad rapped on the door. 

“Come in,” said Jack, hospitably. “You’ve had 
a long walk. Take off your coat and warm your- 
self.” 

“ I can’t stay,” replied the little chap, in the un- 
mistakable Ladell drawl. “Vance is dreadful sick, 
and he wants to see you-all.” 

“What’s the matter with him, Kirk?” asked Dan, 
with a knowing glance at his chum. 


284 TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 

“ Pneumony, and he’s down hard. I’ll thank you 
for a cup of coffee — I ain’t had no breakfast 
yet.” 

“ Sit down with us and have some dinner,” said 
Dan. “ We’ll go back with you when you’re rested.” 

That afternoon the boys reached the sick-room. 
Vance was indeed very low, but recognised them at 
once. He had wasted to a mere shadow, but was 
resting easily after passing the climax of the fever. 
His mother was standing anxiously at the foot of the 
bed when Kirk led the boys in, but, with a mother’s 
intuition, quietly withdrew, taking the youngster with 
her. 

“ Hello, Dan ! ” said Vance, faintly, when the three 
were alone. 

“ Hello, Vance ! ” replied Dan, seating himself on 
the edge of the bed. 

“ I’ve got something to tell you, boys,” continued 
the convalescent, nodding to Jack. 

“Let’s hear it,” said Dan quickly. “We’ll keep 
it quiet, Vance, whatever it is.” 

“ I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for stealin’ 
your pelts,” confessed Vance, humbly. “ I got heat 
up that night, and it keeled me over.” 

“ So you took them ? ” Dan queried, not very 
much surprised. 

“Yes, I took ’em off the cabin the same night I 
heard you got the big bear in Dark Swamp. It 
made me so hot I couldn’t stand it no longer. And 


CONCLUSION 


285 


I’d have burned your cabin that identical night, too, 
only I thought I heard you cornin’ ; but you didn’t 
get back till next day.” 

“That’s pretty bad, Vance,” said Dan, in a hard, 
dry voice. “ That’s pretty bad.” 

“ Ain’t it, though ? The more I think about it, the 
more I’d like to kind of mend matters. It ain’t that 
I think I’m goin’ to die, or that I’m afraid you’ll ever 
find the pelts, Dan, for I knowed you couldn’t track 
me after that snow. But I’ve had a whole lot of 
time here on my back, and havin’ one of the best 
mothers in the world to look after me, and a doctor 
to bring pills, I’ve kind of made up my mind to act on 
the square after this. You boys went at your trappin’ 
and worked hard, and it made me hot, and I got kind 
of crazy jealous. If I live to get out of this, I’m 
goin’ to work and act on the level, like you boys, and 
help my folks. Mr. Paget said you was the right 
stuff, and I reckon you are.” 

“ Did you sell the furs, Vance ? ” asked Dan, much 
touched by the simple confession. 

“ Not one, I didn’t. They’re all hid under the 
floorin’ in the old barn on Matt Hinkle’s farm — 
every one of ’em. I want you to go and get ’em, 
and promise to keep this quiet only just as long as 
I do the right thing. Will you, Dan ? ” 

“ Of course we will,” said Dan, heartily. “ You go 
to work when you get better, Vance, and stick to it. 
You’ll soon get thrifty, and after awhile people will 


286 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


forget there was ever such a person as ‘shiftless 
Vance Ladell.’ ” 

“ Is that what they call me ? ” asked Vance, in sur- 
prise. 

“ I’ve often heard it,” replied Dan, frankly. 

“ Well, you’ll never hear it again,” said Vance, 
firmly, and Dan never did ; for Vance went to work 
as he promised, and at the present writing is making 
a good man of himself. The people of Cragstone 
attribute the change to his long illness, and they are 
partly right. 

The boys found their furs neatly packed away in 
the deserted barn, and carried them home, where 
they were left until they took up their traps the 
following week. One afternoon, just before break- 
ing camp, Jonas appeared with the mail, which con- 
tained three letters for Jack, — two from home and 
one from Harvey. As Harvey’s will perhaps prove 
most interesting to the reader, I take the liberty of 
quoting it verbatim : 

“OFFICE OF 

“MACKAY AND COMPANY, 

“500 Madison Ave. 

“New York, Dec. 18, 19 — . 

“ Dear Jack : — Was delighted to hear that you had shot 
a bear, and that it is to be mounted in the museum. Your 
description of the hunt was very interesting, and made me 
wish to be with you. Glad to hear Shep is doing nicely. 
Feed him a bone for me. I think your cousin Dan must be 
a brick, from what you say. Bring him down with you, and 


CONCLUSION 287 

we’ll take him to see ‘ The Old Homestead ’ — remember that, 
Jack? It seems a long while ago. 

“ I called on your mother last Sunday. She thinks your 
letters are about the only thing worth living for nowadays, 
but is looking forward to your speedy return. I’m glad 
you’re well and strong again, as I’ve had a lot to do since 
you left. Jim McPherson was getting behind in his collec- 
tions, and we had a plain talk about it. Jim is a sensible 
fellow, and I made him see that he couldn’t burn the candle 
at both ends. He’s been fine as a feather ever since, and, 
though he doesn’t say so, he knows I was right. Colonel 
Vreeland has bought the brick tenements in East Ninety- 
fourth Street, and Jim and I have been making extra money 
working overtime. Mr. Mackay put in an ‘ad.’ for an office 
boy after you left, and about sixty fellows responded. Joe Doyle 
kept them in line half the day with a broomstick, as Mr. Mackay 
had been detained in court. It was a banner day for Joe. We’ve 
got a boy at last, but he’s dead slow to learn, though he tries 
hard. He’ll do better when he’s had a little experience. 

“You’ll be glad to hear that Colonel Vreeland is going to 
prosecute ‘ Billings and Company ’ to the full extent of the law. 
As you have doubtless heard, the Sallie Harkness put into 
Greenport, Long Island, a fortnight ago, and Colwell and 
Deschamps — the fellow known as Frenchy — were promptly 
arrested. Billings, whose real name turns out to be Dick 
Bolden, has turned state’s evidence, and is bound to receive 
somewhat lighter sentences than the others. Judging from 
what I hear, however, they’ll all get upwards of twenty years, 
and it’s little enough. The trial is set for the middle of Jan- 
uary, and you may have to appear against them. 

“ Mr. Mackay got your letter all right, and was glad to 
offer poor Mrs. Colwell the janitorship of the Maryland Arms 
building in Thirty-fourth Street. Your mother has been to 
see her several times, and has fitted up the rooms in good shape 


288 


TWO BOYS IN THE BLUE RIDGE 


She tells Mrs. Colwell to consider the things a Christmas present 
from a grateful giver. The good woman appears happy, and is 
pleased with her place, and Bessie attends school regularly. I 
sent Andy McGowan the magazines as requested, and enclose 
you his postal in reply. Can you make it out? 

“Well, Jack, I’ve told you about all the news, so will close 
by sending regards and best wishes to your cousin Dan and 
yourself. Good luck, and write soon. 

“ Your sincere friend, 

“ Harvey Tallant.” 

That was the letter that Jack read to Dan, and 
which hurried the former’s departure from the Blue 
Ridge. For after a brief visit with his grandmother 
and uncle, who had returned from the West, Jack 
packed his things, and one snowy morning, a day or 
two before Christmas, surrounded by Uncle Jim, the 
Elwoods, Jonas, and a crowd of village boys, he stood 
upon the platform at Cragstone, and said good-bye. 
Dan had politely declined Jack’s invitation to accom- 
pany him. He wanted “none of the city in his,” as 
he tersely expressed it, and said he’d “ rather hear the 
hounds hollerin’ on the hills than the finest singer 
alive.” No further arguments were deemed necessary. 

Jack took the furs to the city with him, realising 
sixty-four dollars from their sale. After deducting 
the cost of groceries, traps, ammunition, and other 
supplies, which sum was allowed Dan, who had ad- 
vanced it, the boys had twenty-three dollars apiece 
for their work. The forty dollars, less expenses, 
received from the sale of the bear was also divided. 


CONCLUSION 


289 


Everybody said that Jack had grown two inches 
and gained twenty pounds on his vacation. Judging 
from the way he tackled his work this may have been 
so, for no lad ever took up his duties with more spirit. 
He has a host of friends, for he is at once earnest, 
honest, modest, and true. He and Harvey are great 
chums, and see much of each other. Colonel Vree- 
land has found another steward, but still retains Jack 
as messenger. He is numbered among Edna’s best 
friends, and the young girl finds him more agreeable 
than most of the college boys of her acquaintance ; 
for there is nothing of the snob about Jack. 

He is a devoted son and brother, never forgetting 
that he owes his mother more than he can ever 
repay. In his daily life he meets all sorts and con- 
ditions of people, and is ever ready and willing to 
help the unfortunate. It is these very traits that 
have made him so popular, and have started him so 
surely on the great highroad to success. 



























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